MARMADUKE  WYVIL; 


OR, 


THE  MAID'S  REVENGE, 


A  HISTORICAL  ROMANCE. 


BY 


HENRY    WILLIAM    HERBERT, 

</ 

AUTHOR     OF 

"THE    BROTHERS,"    "CROMWELL,"    ETC. 


Vengeance  is  mine,  I  will  repay,  saith  the  Lord." 


NEW. YORK: 
J     WINCHESTER,    NEW    WORLD   PRESS, 

30     ANN- STREET 


[ENTERED  ACCORDING  TO  ACT  OF  CONGRESS,  BY  HENRY  AVILLIAM  HERBERT,  IN  THE  YEAR  1843, 
IN  THE  CLERK'S  OFFICE  OF  THE  SOUTHERN  DISTRICT  OF  NEW-YORK,] 


>i« 


DEDICATION. 


TO    ANSON    LIVINGSTON,    ESQ. 

AS    A    VERY    INADEQUATE,    THOUGH    VERY   SINCERE,   TOKEN    OF    THE    REGARD  AND    EST.^.M 

WHICH   HAVE   BEEN   PRODUCED    BY    A    LON&  AND   INTIMATE   ACQUAINTANCE, 

THE   AMERICAN    EDITION   OF    MARMADUKE   WYVIL 

IS  DEDICATED, 

BY  HIS  FRIEND  AND   SERVANT, 

HENRY  WM.  HERBERT. 
CAKLTON  HOUSE, 

New.Yorlc,  Apri   3,  1843. 


ADVERTISEMENT. 


IN  presenting  this  work  to  the  public,  the  author  feels  that  he  is  but  renewing  an 
intercourse  which,  though  interrupted  for  a  while,  has  ever  been  a  source  of  agreeable 
recollection  to  himself,  with  many  distant  and  unknown  friends ;  and,  trusting  that  they 
will  regard  the  renewal  of  a  pleasant  familiarity  with  favorable  eyes,  commits  it  to 
their  gentle  judgment — confident  that  it  contains  not  a  syllable  to  call  up  a  blush  into 
the  purest  cheek,  or  to  implant  an  improper  thought  in  the  most  unsullied  heart — and 
trusting  that  it  may  be  found  to  contain  some  wholesome  lessons,  in  the  portraiture  of 
the  contest  between  human  principles,  and  human  passions  ;  and  to  convey  some  useful 
information  concerning  the  history  of  a  period  full  of  great  men  and  stirring  incidents. 

It  may  not  be  superfluous  to  add  in  this  place,  that  all  the  facts  introduced  as  His- 
torical  will  be  found  strictly  true — the  author  deeming  it  a  species  of  crime,  even  in 
fiction,  to  falsify  the  truth  of  History.  Those  of  his  readers,  who  may  feel  such  interest 
in  this  little  narrative  as  would  induce  them  to  examine  for  themselves,  are  referred  to 
the  "Memoires  relatifs  a  la  Revolution  d'Angleterre" — to  the  Biography  of  the  Cardinal 
de  Retz — and  to  the  Lives  of  Celebrated  Statesmen,  by  G.  P.  R.  JAMES,  Esq. — from 
one  of  which  sources  most  of  the  facts  inwoven  in  the  following  romance  have  been, 
and  much  more  may  be,  derived,  both  of  amusement  and  of  information. 

CARLTON  HOUSE,  New-York,  April  3,  1843. 


MARMADUKE     WYVIL; 


OR, 


THE  MAID'S  REVENGE. 


CHAPTER    I. 

IN  a  sequestered  vale  of  merry  England,  not  many  miles  from  the  county  town  of 
Worcester,  there  stands,  in  excellent  preservation,  even  to  the  present  day,  one  of  those 
many  mansions  scattered  through  the  land,  which — formerly  the  manor  houses  of  a 
race,  now,  like  their  dwellings,  becoming  rapidly  extinct,  the  good  old  English  squires — 
have,  for  the  most  part,  been  converted  into  farm-houses  ;  since  their  old-time  proprie- 
tors have,  simultaneously  with  the  growth  of  vaster  fortunes,  and  the  rise  of  loftier 
dignities,  declined  into  a  humbler  sphere.  In  the  days  of  which  we  write,  however, 
Woolverton  Hall  was  in  the  hands  of  the  same  family,  which  had  dwelt  there,  father 
and  son,  for  ages.  It  was  a  tall,  irregular  edifice,  of  bright  red  brick,  composed  of  two 
long  buildings,  with  steep  flagged  roofs  and  pointed  gables,  meeting  exactly  at  right 
angles  so  as  to  form  a  letter  L ;  the  longer  limb  running  due  east  and  west,  the  shorter 
abutting  on  the  eastern  end,  and  pointing  with  its  gable,  southerly.  In  this  south  gable, 
near  the  top,  was  a  tall,  gothic,  lanceolated  window,  its  mullions  and  casings  wrought 
of  a  yellowish  sand-stone,  to  match  the  corner  stones  of  all  the  angles,  which  were 
faced  with  the  same  material ;  beneath  this  window,  which,  as  seen  from  without, 
appeared  to  reach  nearly  from  the  floor  to  the  ceiling  of  the  second  story,  was  the  date, 
1559 — the  numerals,  several  feet  in  length,  composed  of  rusty  iron  ;  and  above  it,  on 
the  summit  of  the  gable,  a  tall  weather-cock,  surmounted  by  a  vane  shaped  like  a  dol- 
phin, which  had  once  been  fairly  gilded,  but  now  was  all  dim  and  tarnished  by  long 
exposure  to  the  seasons.  To  this  part  of  the  house  there  were  no  chimneys,  which 
was  the  more  remarkable,  that  the  rest  of  the  building  was  somewhat  superfluously 
adorned  with  these  appendages,  rising  like  columns,  quaintly  wrought  of  brickwork  in 
the  old  Elizabethan  style.  Corresponding  to  the  gothic  window  in  position,  though  by 
no  means  so  lofty,  a  range  of  five  large  square-topped  latticed  windows,  divided  each 
into  four  compartments  by  a  cross-shaped  stone  transom,  ran  all  along  that  front  of  the 
other  wing,  which,  with  the  abutting  chapel — for  such  it  seemed  to  be — formed  the 
interior  angle  of  the  L.  From  the  point  of  the  western  roof,  to  match,  as  it  were,  the 
weathercock  which  crowned  the  other  gable,  projected  a  long  beam  or  horn  of  stone, 
at  an  angle  of  about  ninety  degrees,  curiously  wreathed  with  a  deep  spiral  groove, 
not  much  unlike  the  tusk  of  that  singular  animal,  the  sword-fish. 

This  was  all  that  could  be  seen  of  the  main  building  from  without,  by  a  spectator 
looking  at  its  southern  front — for  it  stood  in  a  court  surrounded  by  a  heavy  wall  of 
brick,  with  a  projecting  parapet  and  battlement  of  stone,  flanked  by  short  towers,  with 
roofs  shaped  like  extinguishers,  and  having  its  base  washed  by  a  broad  rapid  rivulet, 
which,  rushing  through  a  narrow  artificial  channel,  along  the  eastern  wall,  expanded 
in  front  of  the  house  into  a  wider  bed;  and  after  falling  over  a  steep  dam,  swept  off 
down  the  lone  valley  to  the  left,  in  a  south-westerly  direction.  In  the  outer  wall,  close 
to  the  base  of  a  flanking  tower,  crenelled  and  looped  for  musketry  and  ordnance,  was 
a  low  water-gate,  well  closed  with  a  portcullis  of  stout  iron  bars ;  and,  some  ten  feet 


2  MARMADTTKE     WYVIL; 

within,  by  a  strong  second  door  of  oak,  studded  with  massive  nails.  Toward  the 
west,  the  courtyard  wall  rose  higher,  for  there  a  smooth  and  velvet  lawn,  with  no  im- 
pediment of  fosse  or  ditch,  swept,  with  a  light  ascent,  up  to  its  very  foot ;  and  in  the 
«entre  of  its  length,  seen,  in  perspective,  by  one  standing  as  above,  was  an  embattled 
gate-house.  It  should  be  added  that  from  within  this  wall,  the  tops  of  many  ornamental 
trees  might  be  discovered,  now  slightly  tinged  by  the  first  hues  of  autumn.  The  north- 
ern and  eastern  faces  of  the  house,  which  could  not,  of  course,  be  seen  from  the  position 
indicated,  displayed  no  entrances,  nor  aught  save  narrow  loops  and  shot-holes  on  the 
ground  floor,  while,  even  on  the  upper  stories,  the  apertures  for  air  and  light  were 
small,  and  guarded  against  escalade  by  heavy  iron  gratings. 

The  whole  had  evidently  been  originally  meant,  no  less  for  a  defensible  position 
than  for  a  peaceful  dwelling,  in  those  stern  days,  when  every  man's  house  was,  in 
truth,  his  castle  ;  but  easier  times  had  followed,  and  many  of  the  sterner  points  had 
been  concealed,  and  that  not  casually,  by  graces  and  embellishments  of  milder  nature. 
Fruit-trees  and  many  flowering  creepers  were  trained  along  the  landward  fronts  of  the 
main  building ;  a  mass  of  dense  and  tangled  ivy  covered  the  turrets  of  the  gate-house, 
and  on  the  moat — little  designed  for  such  use  by  its  makers — floated  two  stately  swans, 
their  graceful  necks  and  snow-white  plumage  reflected  to  the  life,  on  its  transparent 
bosom,  with  a  whole  host  of  smaller  water-fowl,  teal,  widgeon,  golden-eyes,  and  others 
of  rare  foreign  species,  diving  and  revelling,  half-reclaimed,  in  pursuit  of  their  prey  or 
pleasure. 

Such  was  the  aspect  of  the  hall,  on  the  day  following  the  desperate  fight  of  Worcester, 
the  sounds  of  which — the  dull  deep  bellowing  of  the  cannon,  blent  with  the  harsh  dis- 
cordant rattle  of  the  volleying  arquebus — had  been  distinctly  heard  by  its  dismayed  in- 
habitants. Some  symptoms  of  fresh  preparation  were  there,  though,  for  the  most  part, 
slight  and  ineffective — the  creepers  had  been  cut  away  in  places  where  they  had  entirely 
obscured  the  crenelles ;  fresh  loopholes  had  been  broken  in  the  western  wall ;  a  few 
small  cannon,  falcons  and  culverins,  were  mounted  on  the  parapet ;  and  from  an  em- 
brasure, which  flanked  the  water  gate,  the  muzzle  of  a  heavy  gun  was  run  out,  grinning 
its  stern  defiance.  There  was  no  flag,  however,  displayed  from  the  walls ;  no  show  of 
any  garrison,  not  so  much  even  as  a  solitary  sentinel — so  that  there  was  no  reason  to 
believe  the  inmates  partisans  of  either  of  those  factions  which  4iad  so  long  disturbed 
the  country ;  or  to  suppose  them  capable  of  any  more  prolonged  defence,  than  might 
suffice  to  beat  off  the  marauders,  who,  ever  profiting  by  times  of  civil  discord,  levied 
their  contributions  equally  on  friend  or  foe  or  neutral. 

South  of  the  moat,  the  bank  of  which  was  fringed  with  a  low  shrubby  coppice,  mostly 
of  ornamental  plants  and  bushes,  a  park-like  meadow  dotted  with  clumps  of  trees,  and 
full  of  sunny  slopes  and  cool  deep  hollows,  extended,  half  a  mile  perhaps  in  width,  to 
the  high  road,  from  which  it  was  divided  by  a  broad  sunk  fence  and  ragged  paling ;  and 
was  flanked  by  the  stream,  which,  strong  and  deep  and  rapid,  had  cut  itself  a  deep  gorge 
through  the  rich  alluvial  soil,  the  sides  thickset  with  broom  and  furze  and  brachens,  and 
many  a  polished  holly-bush,  and  many  an  ash  and  alder,  forming  a  dense  and  seemingly 
impervious  brake.  Beyond  the  river,  which  the  road  traversed  on  an  old  one-arched 
bridge  of  brick,  lay  a  wide  tract  of  low  and  swampy  woodland ;  and  at  the  angle  of 
the  park,  formed  by  the  meeting  of  the  highway  and  the  brook,  stood  a  small  fishing- 
house,  much  overgrown  with  ivy,  but  kept  in  good  repair  ;  as  might  be  seen  by  the  neat 
painted  lattices,  one  of  which,  standing  open,  showed  a  white  muslin  curtain  gracefully 
looped  up,  and  a  small  table  with  a  vase  of  flowers  arranged  there,  evidently  by  a 
woman's  hand. 

This  scene,  with  all  its  details,  has  not  been  thus  particularly  and  closely  drawn,  from 
the  mere  wish  of  laying  a  picture  before  the  eyes  of  the  reader — although  it  is  a  picture, 
and  a  true  one — but  from  a  desire  of  impressing  on  the  mind  localities,  without  a  full 
and  distinct  perception  of  which  much  of  the  melancholy  tale  to  be  related  would  be 
obscure,  to  such  a  degree,  as  to  lose  one  half  of  its  interest. 
It  was,  as  has  been  said,  on  the  day  following  Worcester  fight — the  crowning  mercy 


OR,     THE     MAID'S     REVENGE.  3 

of  that  remarkable  man  who  swayed  so  skilfully  the  destinies  of  the  great  kingdom, 
which  he  so  strangely  won — that  Woolverton  Hall  looked,  in  the  level  rays  of  the  de- 
clining sun,  as  it  is  here  described.  The  morning  had  been  raw  and  gusty,  and  though 
toward  sunset  the  chilly  clouds  had  opened,  and  let  out  a  few  faint  beams  to  gild  the 
melancholy  hues  of  autumn,  which  were  encroaching  fast  upon  the  cheerful  greenery 
of  the  woods,  it  was  but  a  gray  and  gloomy  evening.  A  few  small  birds  had,  indeed, 
mustered  courage  to  chirrup  some  short  notes  to  the  brief  sunbeams,  and  a  single  throstle 
was  pouring  out  his  liquid  song  from  the  thick  foliage  on  the  river  bank ;  but  the  wind 
whistled  dolefully,  although  not  high,  among  the  tree  tops,  whirling  away  the  sere  leaves 
with  its  every  breath ;  and  a  thic  ffhostly  mist  seethed  upward  from  the  surface  of  the 
brook,  like  the  steam  of  a  caldron,  and  through  its  smoky  wreaths  flapped  the  broad  pin- 
ions  of  that  aquatic  hermit,  the  gray  heronshaw,  meet  habitant  of  such  a  spot. 

Sadly,  however,  as  the  scene,  beautiful  in  ordinary  aspects,  and  romantically  wild, 
showed,  under  such  a  sky,  it  was  yet  gazed  upon  by  soft  and  lovely  eyes  ;  for,  from 
the  open  lattice  of  the  fishing-house,  nearest  to  the  highway,  a  young  girl,  surely  not 
past  her  twentieth  summer,  looking  forth  half  listlessly  half  mournfully  over  the  bridge, 
and  up  the  sandy  road,  which,  skirting  the  dank  woodlands  wound  over  a  small  hill,  the 
verge  of  which  cut  clear  r«jainst  the  ruddy  sky  at  a  mile's  distance.  She  was  a  genuine 
English  beauty,  with  a  fair  and  oval  face,  a  bright,  delicate  complexion,  shaded  by  a 
profusion  of  rich  nut-b.-own  hair,  falling  in  ample  curls  from  off  her  lustrous  brow,  and 
sweeping,  in  thick  cluste/s,  down  her  neck.  Her  eyes  were  of  a  full  bright  blue,  with 
long  dark  lashes ;  and  they,  and  all  her  features  spoke  volumes  of  soft  gentle  girlish 
feelings — of  tenderness  and  pity ;  and  of  love,  latent — but  ready  to  leap  forth  a  giant 
from  his  birth.  Her  figure  was  below,  rather  than  above,  the  middle  height  of  woman  ; 
but  exquisitely  shaped,  and  far  more  full  and  rounded,  although  her  waist  was  very 
slender,  than  usual  at  her  years.  Her  arm,  which  was  a  good  deal  displayed  by  the 
open  falling  sleeve  of  the  period,  was  symmetry  itself ;  and  her  whole  person,  and  its 
every  movement  full  of  that  graceful  ease,  which  goes  yet  farther  to  win  hearts  than  the 
most  regal  beauty.  A  book  or  two  lay  scattered  on  the  table  at  her  side,  and  an  old- 
fashioned  lute ;  while  at  her  feet,  stretched  out  at  his  full  length,  was  an  enormous  blood- 
hound, his  lithe  and  sinewy  limbs  now  all  relaxed  and  easy,  his  huge  black-muzzled 
head  quietly  couched  between  his  paws,  and  his  smooth  tawny  hide  glancing  like  cop- 
per in  the  last  lurid  sunbeam.  But  now  that  sunbeam  vanished  ;  a  deeper  shade  sank 
down  over  the  landscape,  a  dull  gray  hue  swallowed  up  all  the  glimmering  tints  that 
gemmed  the  fleecy  clouds  with  light,  and  all  was  dim  and  dark — woodland  and  mead 
and  sky  and  river,  except  one  pale  bright  streak  far  in  the  west,  against  which  the  brow 
of  the  hill,  with  the  road  winding  over  it,  stood  out  in  clear  relief. 

The  girl,  who  had  been  gazing  so  long  on  the  darkening  scene,  evidently  half  uncon- 
scious that  she  did  so,  suddenly  seemed  to  recollect  herself,  and  gathering  her  cloak 
about  her,  drew  its  hood  over  her  rich  tresses,  and  rose  as  if  to  go — the  bloodhound, 
wakened  from  his  doze  by  her  light  tread,  lifted  his  head,  yawned  lazily,  and  stretched 
himself ;  and  then  arising  to  his  full  height,  looked  wistfully  into  her  face,  as  if  he  were 
aware  of  the  importance  of  his  trust. 

But  at  that  very  moment  a  dull  flat  report,  as  of  a  distant  gunshot,  broke  the  silence  ; 
and  the  dog  pricked  his  pendulous  ears,  and  stalked  with  a  low  growl  to  the  doorway ; 
while  the  lady  turned  her  head  quickly  toward  the  window  whence  she  had  just  with- 
drawn. Her  first  glance  was  toward  the  road ;  and,  where  it  crossed  the  hill-top,  she 
saw  clearly  the  head  of  a  man,  and  then  his  whole  figure,  with  his  horse,  rise  rapidly 
against  the  brilliant  gleam  of  the  western  sky — so  instantaneous  was  his  transit,  how. 
ever,  that  she  would  almost  have  distrusted  her  eyesight,  had  not  the  clatter  of  hoofs 
dashing  fiercely  down  the  hill-side,  assured  her  of  its  accuracy — for  now  the  slope  and 
base  of  the  hill  were  all  in  misty  and  uncertain  shadow.  Before  she  had  well  thought 
on  what  she  had  scarce  seen,  another  and  another  and  another  head  topped  the  steep 
verge  ;  and,  as  they  crossed  it,  were  discovered,  by  the  bright  glitter,  to  be  covered  with 
steel  caps,  the  well-known  head-dress  of  the  Puritan  troopers — another  second  sufficed 


4  MARMADtTKE     WYVILJ 

to  bring  into  full  view  a  party  of  some  twenty  horse,  who  halted  for  a  moment  on  the 
summit — a  dozen  of  quick  flashes  ran  along  the  front,  and  the  sharp  rattle  of  a  volley 
followed — again  a  minute — and  they,  too,  had  galloped  down  the  slope,  and  were 
enveloped  in  thick  gloom.  All  this  passed  in  less  time  than  it  has  taken  to  describe  it, 
but  still  the  lady  had  marked  and  understood  it  all ;  and  acted  on  the  instant,  as  a  kind 
heart,  instigated  by  woman's  natural  sympathy  with  the  oppressed,  dictated.  Wilh  a 
quick  step  she  left  the  fishing-house,  and  stood  upon  a  little  flight  of  steps  which  ran 
down  from  a  platform  level  with  the  bridge,  to  the  stream's  brink.  And  scarcely  had 
she  reached  her  stand,  before  the  single  horseman  wheeled  round  the  angle  of  the  wood, 
and  crossed  the  bridge  at  as  fast  a  rate  as  his  drooping  steed  could  compass.  The  pur- 
suers, scarcely  five  hundred  yards  behind  him,  were  still  beyond  the  woodland,  which 
alone  hindered  them  from  seeing  him. 

"  Hist !"  she  cried — "  hist !  Sir  Cavalier,"  in  clear  low  tones,  which  made  them- 
selves distinctly  audible  to  him  whom  she  addressed,  though  they  could  scarcely  have 
been  heard  at  three  yards'  distance.  "  Halt,  as  you  love  your  life.  Halt,  for  Godsake  !" 

Almost  instinctively  the  rider  drew  his  rein ;  and  the  wearied  horse  obeyed  so  readily, 
that  he  stood  statue-like  upon  the  instant.  The  horseman  was  a  tall  slight  figure,  with 
a  slouched  hat  and  drooping  feather,  a  cuirass  of  bright  steel,  crossed  by  a  broad  blue 
baldric,  and  all  his  buff  coat  slashed  with  satin,  and  fringed  with  Flanders'  lace — thus 
much  she  saw  at  half  a  glance,  and  it  confirmed  all  she  supposed  and  dreaded. 

"  You  have  but  one  chance  for  your  life  !"  she  said — "  but  one  !  but  one  !  There  is 
another  troop  of  Cromwell's  horse  not  half  a  league  before  you.  'Light  down  !  'light 
down  !  for  Godsake,  while  yet  they  are  behind  the  wood — nay !  speak  not,  but  'light 
down,"  she  continued,  even  more  vehemently,' seeing  him  now  about  to  answer.  "  Do 
it  with  the  speed  of  light — cross  the  bridge  back  again,  fasten  your  horse  there  in  the 
wood,  and  join  me  instantly — I  can — I  can — and  I  will  save  you,  so  you  delay  not  i" 

The  tramp  of  galloping  horses  came  nearer,  and  the  shouts  of  the  pursuers — he  paused, 
he  doubted,  but  as  if  to  accelerate  his  resolve,  a  distant  trumpet  tone,  and  the  long  hollow 
boom  of  a  kettle-drum  came  down  the  road  from  the  direction  he  was  following,  and 
proved  the  hopelessness  of  flight.  He  turned  his  horse's  head — 

"  Lady,"  he  said,  "  I  trust  you,  I  obey" — he  retraced  his  steps  quickly,  and  had  just 
reached  the  friendly  covert,  when,  at  the  top  of  their  speed,  the  Puritans  drove  round 
the  corner — a  second  sooner,  and  he  had  perished  at  her  feet. 

With  instant  readiness  of  mind,  she  hurried  down  the  steps,  bidding  the  hound,  in  a 
low  voice,  be  still — and  from  the  last  low  stair,  sprang  lightly  to  a  small  abutment  under 
the  bridge's  arch,  just  level  with  the  water ;  and  scarcely  was  she  there,  before,  with 
clash  of  harness,  and  jingling  of  spur  and  scabbard,  and  all  the  thundering  din  of  charging 
horse,  the  troopers  drove  above  her  head.  The  solid  masonry  appeared  to  quake  be- 
neath the  fury  of  their  speed.  Her  heart  stood  still  with  awe — then,  as  the  tumult  pas- 
sed, and  died  away  in  the  distance,  bounded  as  though  it  would  have  burst  her  bosom. 
Timidly,  cautiously  she  crept  up  the  damp  mossy  steps,  and  reached  the  causeway — 
and  hardly  was  she  there,  when  a  dim  shape  came  crouching  toward  her  from  the 
woodland. 

"  Heaven  be  praised !"  she  exclaimed — "  oh !  Heaven  be  praised !"  as  he  stood  safely 
by  her  side.  "  Follow  me  swift  and  silently.  Life  !  life  is  on  our  speed  !" 

Descending  once  more  to  the  margin  of  the  water,  she  drew  aside  the  tangled 
branches,  and  entered  a  small  winding  footpath,  worn  by  the  devious  tread  of  the  wild 
deer,  and  widened  by  the  steps  of  village  urchins,  nutting  or  birdnesting  among  the 
matted  dingle.  So  narrow  was  the  track,  however,  and  so  abruptly  did  it  twist  and 
turn  round  many  a  doddered  ivy  bush  and  stunted  oak,  now  covered,  for  a  few  steps, 
by  the  shallow  ripples  of  the  stream,  now  scaling  the  ravine  by  sudden  zigzags,  that 
none  but  a  well-practiced  eye  could  have  discovered  it  by  that  glimmering  twilight. 
Though  well  aware  that  life  was  on  his  speed — that  the  avenger  of  blood  was  but  a 
little  way  behind — the  stranger  scarcely  could  keep  up,  though  muscular,  and  swift  of 
foot,  and  active,  with  the  deer-like  speed  of  his  fair  guide.  At  length,  after  a  rapid 


Oft,     THE     MAID'S     REVENGE.  5 

walk  of  perhaps  ten  minutes,  they  reached  the  dam  at  the  moat-head — where  was  a 
low-arched  boat-house,  with  a  small  light  skiff  moored  beneath  it — and  stood  quietly 
facing  the  south  side  of  the  mansion.  From  the  two  windows,  farthest  from  the  five 
in  the  upper  range,  a  steady  light  was  shining  into  the  quiet  night ;  and  from  a  loop, 
beside  the  water-gate,  a  long  red  ray  streamed  out,  casting  a  wavering  line  of  radiance 
over  the  rippling  water.  With  these  exceptions,  all  was  profoundly  dark  and  silent. 
By  the  boat-house  she  paused  a  moment,  as  if  in  deep  reflection. 

"  They  will  come  here  anon  !"  she  said — "  they  will  come  here  anon,  and  search  the 
house  from  battlement  to  cellar,  before  we  can  bestow  you  where  I  would.  And  I 
must  blind  the  servants,  and  speak,  too,  with  my  father.  Meanwhile,  here  must  you 
tarry — here  they  will  never  dream  of  searching." 

And  as  she  spoke  she  stooped  under  the  low-browed  arch,  and  tripped  along  a  little 
rib  of  stone- work,  scarcely  a  foot  in  width,  to  the  extreme  end  of  the  boat-house,  where 
was  a  small  paved  landing,  with  three  steps  downward  to  the  water,  and  a  slight 
wooden  ladder  upward,  leading  to  a  small  hole  beside  the  keystone  of  the  arch. 

"  Up  there,"  she  cried — "  up  there,"  laying  her  hand  upon  the  ladder,  which  they 
could  just  distinguish  by  the  reflection  of  the  windows  from  the  moat.  "  It  is  a  little 
sail-loft,  not  two  feet  high,  under  the  slated  roof,  full  of  old  sails  and  oars.  Up  there, 
and  draw  the  ladder  after  you,  and  should  they  come  to  search  there,  which  they  will 
not,  I  think,  roll  yourself  in  the  canvas,  and  lie  still.  And  now  attend  to  me.  There 
is  a  little  air-hole  in  the  front,  toward  the  house,  whence  you  can  see  the  windows. 
Can  you  swim,  sir — you  can,  I  warrant  me  !"  and  as  she  heard  his  brief  affirmative, 
she  went  on  rapidly — "  well,  when  you  see  that  red  light  thrice  extinguished,  and 
thrice  re-lighted,  with  such  pause  that  you  may  reckon  ten  between,  come  down,  swim 
boldly  to  the  water-gate,  and  I  will  be  there  to  admit  you.  Farewell — God  keep  you," 
and  she  stepped  into  the  light  boat,  unmoored,  and  pushed  it  out,  while  the  young 
cavalier  ascended,  and  drew  up  the  ladder  obedient  to  her  bidding. 

The  distance  was  but  short,  and  the  light  paddle,  wielded  by  her  fairy  hands,  scarcely 
had  cut  the  surface  six  times,  ere  the  boat  floated  by  the  portcullis  of  the  water-gate ; 
and  a  voice  somewhat  tremulous  from  age,  hailed  from  the  lighted  shot-hole,  inquiring 
who  was  there. 

"  'Tis  I — 'tis  I,  good  Jeremy,"  she  answered.  "  Open  to  me,  quickly,  for  it  is  some- 
what late  and  cold  for  the  season." 

The  aged  servitor  required  no  second  bidding ;  the  grating  was  drawn  up,  and  the 
inner  doors  thrown  open,  and — while  the  old  man  held  his  link  on  high,  casting  a 
smoky  light  over  the  steps,  and  the  black  water,  and  several  boats  moored  there  of 
various  sizes — two  younger  grooms,  with  badges  on  the  sleeves  of  their  jerkins,  ran  out 
along  the  platforms  on  each  side,  and  drew  the  boat,  with  its  fair  freight,  up  to  the 
inner  landing.  The  gates  were  again  barred,  and  the  portcullis  lowered — the  cresset  in 
the  ward-room  was  extinguished,  and  Jeremy  preceding  with  the  torch,  and  the  grooms 
following  cap  in  hand,  the  lady  passed  out  from  the  water-tower  into  the  courtyard  of 
the  hall. 

The  upper  portion  of  the  building,  as  viewed  from  without  the  walls,  has  been  de- 
scribed already  ;  but  a  new  prospect  was  now  shown — the  court,  from  the  walls  of  the 
chapel,  to  the  gate-house  at  its  western  end,  would  have  measured  not  less  than  a  hun- 
dred  yards,  one  half  of  which,  toward  the  gate,  was  laid  out  in  a  formal  parterre, 
divided  from  the  rest  by  a  stone  balustrade,  with  richly-carved  stone  vases,  and  planted 
thickly  with  yew  and  box  and  holly,  clipped  into  all  fantastic  shapes  of  peacocks,  cen- 
taurs, dragons,  and  the  like,  according  to  the  taste  of  that  old  day,  with  two  time-honored 
giants — vast  pines — presiding  over  them,  like  Samsons,  in  all  the  majesty  of  unshorn 
strength  and  beauty.  The  remaining  space  was  open,  paved  with  small  pebbles,  divided 
by  long  rows  of  granite  curb-stones,  diverging  from  a  common  centre,  where,  in  an  orna- 
mental basin,  played  a  small  fountain.  The  door  of  the  mansion,  under  a  low  stone 
arch,  bearing  upon  its  keystone  the  same  date,  1559,  was  placed  exactly  at  the  ex- 
tremity of  the  main,  building,  where  the  abutting  chapel  formed  a  right  angle,  and  was 


6  MARMADtTKE     WYVIL; 

flanked  by  several  long  crenelles  for  musketry,  which,  it  would  seem,  with  similar 
apertures,  had,  formerly,  been  the  only  means  of  giving  light  to  the  ground  floor  of  the 
edifice.  Of  these,  however,  only  five  remained  flanking  the  doorway,  while,  for  the 
others,  had  been  substituted  good  honest  latticed  casements,  four  in  the  front,  under 
the  windows  of  the  upper  story,  the  portal  corresponding  to  the  fifth,  and  two  in  the 
basement  of  the  chapel. 

From  all  of  these  now  shone  a  bright  and  cheerful  radiance  through  the  transparent 
medium  of  snow-white  curtains,  against  which  many  a  shadow  of  male  and  female 
forms  was  cast,  as  persons  hurried  to  and  fro  between  them  and  the  lights ;  while  ever 
and  anon  the  hum  of  merry  voices  and  light  laughter  rang  out  into  the  night,  suggest- 
ing many  an  image  of  fireside  English  comfort.  Not  long,  however,  did  the  lady  pause 
to  note  a  scene  which  she  had  looked  upon  many  times  daily  from  her  childhood,  but 
passed  across  an  angle  of  the  garden,  and  through  the  middle  of  the  court,  directly  to 
the  door.  It  was  a  formidable  massy-looking  remnant  of  antiquity — a  piece  of  hard 
black  oak,  six  inches  thick,  all  clenched  with  great  nail  heads,  and  crossed  with  iron 
bars — yet  it  stood  on  the  latch,  which  gave  way  readily  to  the  light  touch  of  the  lady, 
and  admitted  her  to  a  small  neat  square  hall,  with  two  doors,  to  the  right  and  left,  and 
a  huge  staircase  at  the  back — the  steps,  and  balustrades,  and  wainscoting,  and  floor,  all 
made  of  beautiful  and  highly-polished  oak.  A  gothic  window,  with  stained  glass,  in 
the  second  story — for  the  hall  was  the  whole  height  of  the  building,  with  a  gallery 
above — lighted  it  in  the  day  ;  but  now  a  brazen  lamp,  with  several  blazing  branches, 
swung  by  a  crimson  cord  from  the  roof.  Two  or  three  portraits  hung  upon  the  wall, 
grim-visaged  warriors  cap-a-pie  in  steel,  with  brandished  truncheons — and  long-waisted 
ladies,  looking  unutterable  sweetness  at  huge  nosegays.  Upon  a  large  slab  table,  under 
the  first  turn  of  the  staircase,  lay  several  gloves,  a  broad-leafed  hat  and  feather,  and  a 
sad-colored  riding-cloak  of  camlet ;  while,  in  the  corner,  stood  a  miscellaneous  assort- 
ment of  hand-guns,  fishing-rods,  crossbows,  and  hunting-poles — weapons  of  rural  sport 
— as  on  the  walls  above  hung  suits  of  bright  plate  armor,  with  arquebus  and  petronel 
and  pike,  and  every  implement  of  veritable  warfare. 

"  There — that  will  do,  Jeremy.  I  trow  I  shall  find  my  father  in  the  library  above  ! 
mat  will  do — go  your  way  to  supper,"  said  the  fair  girl,  waving  her  hand  to  her  at- 
tendants, eager  to  get  away  from  the  restraint  imposed  on  her  by  their  presence  ;  and 
as  they  disappeared  through  the  door  to  the  right — whence,  as  they  opened  it,  pro- 
ceeded a  most  savory  smell  of  supper,  and  a  loud  buzz  of  merriment — bounded  with  a 
light  foot  but  anxious  heart,  up  the  broad  staircase  ;  hurried  through  several  spacious 
rooms,  illuminated  only  by  the  dim  glimmering  of  the  new-risen  moon,  and  entering 
the  library,  stood  in  a  broad  glare  of  light  before  her  father's  chair. 


CHAPTER,!!.1 

THE  apartment  which  the  lady  entered,  was  a  small  room,  furnished  on  every  side 
with  book-cases  and  presses  of  some  dark  foreign  wood,  which,  indeed,  covered  all  the 
wall,  with  the  exception  of  the  panel  immediately  above  the  mantelpiece,  and  this  was 
filled  by  a  large  and  exquisitely-painted  portrait.  There  needed  not  two  glances  be- 
fore pronouncing  it  a  masterpiece  of  Antony  Vandyke  ;  it  was  a  lady,  in  the  pride  and 
prime  of  youthful  beauty,  and  the  calm  melancholy  features  and  dark  glossy  curls  told, 
beyond  doubt,  the  place  which  she  had  occupied  in  that  old  house,  and  the  relationship 
she  bore  to  the  fair  girl  who  stood  below,  younger  and  fresher  and  more  g^y,  but  still 
the  breathing  counterpart  of  the  old  picture.  The  only  inmate  of  the  room,  when  the 
girl  cast  the  door  abruptly  open,  was  a  man  very  far  advanced  in  years,  but  yet  of  stately 
presence — time,  which  had  covered  his  fine  classic  head  with  the  thin  snows  of  nearly 


OR, 

fourscore  winters,  and  ploughed  deep  lines  of  care  and  thought  on  his  expansive  brow, 
had  not  curtailed  his  upright  stature  by  one  inch,  nor  dimmed  at  all  the  lustre  of  his 
dark  brilliant  eye.  He  had  been,  it  would  seem,  employed  in  writing ;  for  the  pen 
was  yet  in  his  fingers,  and  paper  lay  before  him  with  many  books — folios,  and  ponder- 
ous tomes  of  reference — scattered  around  him  on  the  table.  But  the  unwonted  speed 
of  his  daughter's  tread  had  excited  him — for  those  were  days  when  each  new  hour 
brought  a  new  tale  of  terror,  and  men  not  naturally  observant,  were  forced  to  become 
so,  by  the  immediate  pressure  of  events.  He  had  arisen,  therefore,  from  his  cushioned 
chair  which  he  had  pushed  back  toward  the  ruddy  hearth,  and  even  taken  a  step  or  two 
toward  the  door — when  it  flew  open,  and  with  cheeks  paler  than  usual,  and  a  slight 
air  of  anxiety,  but,  nevertheless,  all  calm  and  passionless  and  tranquil,  she  stood  before 
him. 

"  Why,  how  now,  Alice,"  he  exclaimed ;  "  what  has  gone  wrong  now — what  19 
amiss,  my  darling,  and  wherefore  so  late  ?" 

"  Oh,  nothing,  nothing  is  amiss,  dear  father,"  she  replied,  forcing  a  smile,  which, 
nevertheless,  failed  to  deceive  his  fears  or  calm  his  apprehension.  "  Nothing  has  gone 
wrong,  I  assure  you,  but  I  have  much  to  tell  you,  and  brief  space  wherein  to  do  so ; 
and,  above  all,  I  fear  me  much,  we  shall,  ere  long,  have  most  unwelcome  visitors." 

"  Sit  down,  then — sit  down,  Alice,  and  tell  me  all  about  it — if  there  be  brief  space, 
so  much  the  more  need  for  good  haste  ;"  and  he  pulled  forward,  as  he  spoke,  a  settee 
from  the  corner  of  the  chimney,  and  placed  himself  in  his  own  seat  in  attitude  of  deep 
attention. 

"  Well,  father,  to  begin,"  she  said  ;  "  I  took  the  little  skiff,  when  you  came  up  to 
write,  and  crossed  the  moat,  and  walked  down  with  old  Talbot  to  the  fishing-house  by 
the  high  road  to  Worcester ;  and  there  I  got  engaged  with  a  book  till  my  attention 
was  called  from  it  by  sounds  of  martial  music,  sounding  away  beyond  the  top  of  Long- 
mire  Hill ;  and  then  I  looked  out  in  surprise,  for  we  had  heard,  you  know,  that  the 
troops  had  all  moved  away  southward,  and  saw  first  one,  and  then  a  second  troop  of 
horsemen  file  down  the  slope ;  and,  as  I  did  not  fear  at  all,  having  no  cause  to  do 
so,  I  waited  there  to  see  them  pass,  and  they  were  men  of  Cromwell's  own  regiment 
of  Ironsides,  with  scarlet  cassocks,  and  bright  corslets,  and  steel  caps,  and  large  boots, 
and  no  feathers.  There  were  above  a  hundred  of  them,  and  they  rode  by  quite  leis- 
urely, laughing  and  chatting,  and  some  smoking.  And  when  they  had  passed  by,  I 
fell  into  a  sort  of  revery,  which  must  have  lasted  a  long  time,  for  when  I  recollected 
myself,  it  had  become  quite  gray  and  dark  ;  and  there  was  no  light  in  the  sky  except 
one  yellow  gleam  along  the  summit  of  the  hill,  where  the  road  crosses  it.  And  then  I 
rose  to  go  away,  and  had  put  on  my  cloak,  when  a  sound  like  the  shot  of  a  hand-gun  or 
pistolet,  attracted  me,  and  I  looked  out  again  and  saw  one  horseman  cross  the  ridge  at  a 
full  gallop,  and  half  a  minute  after,  the  top  was  covered  by  a  whole  troop  of  Puritans, 
for  I  could  see  the  glitter  of  their  helmets,  and  they  halted  and  fired  a  volley,  and 
charged  down  hill  after  him.  So  then  I  went  out  on  the  platform  by  the  bridge,  and 
waited  till  he  came  up — a  tall  young  gentleman,  with  long  light  hair,  and  a  slouched 
hat  and  feather,  and  a  steel  breast-plate,  with  a  broad  blue  scarf  across  it ;  and  I  called 
out  to  him  to  stop,  and  told  him  how  there  was  another  company  of  horse  before,  and 
bade  him  turn  back,  and  tie  up  his  own  beast — sorely  jaded  it  was,  too,  though  a  noble 
charger — down  in  the  heronry  wood,  and  to  join  me  while  his  pursuers  were  hid  be- 
hind the  tall  tr<  -  ;  of  the  beech  clump,  and  he  went  back — and  was  just  out  of  sight, 
when  the  whole  party  turned  the  corner,  and  drove  down,  shouting  and  brandishing 
their  swords  at  a  fierce  gallop.  Then  I  ran  down  the  steps,  and  hid  beneath  the  arch 
of  the  brick  bridge,  while  they  dashed  on  overhead.  Not  one  of  them  saw  me  or  Tal- 
bot, I'm  quite  certain,  and  the  dog  never  growled  nor  showed  his  teeth,  but  seemed  to 
know  what  was  to  do,  as  well  as  I  did.  When  they  had  all  gone  by  again,  I  ran  up  to 
the  top  once  more,  and  there  he  joined  me  ;  and  I  brought  him  home  along  the  little 
path  through  the  dark  dingle  ;  and  when  we  reached  the  boat-house  I  showed  him  the 
sail-loft,  and  made  him  mount  the  ladder  and  draw  it  up  after  him ;  and  then  I  crossed 


8  MAfeMADTIKE 

the  moat  alone,  and  came  directly  home  to  tell  you  all  that  I  had  done.  And  I  have 
done  right — have  not  I,  my  father  ?" 

"  Right !  right,  of  course,  my  girl ;  you  could  not  see  the  fair  youth  slain.  Yet  'tis 
an  awkward  chance.  None  of  the  serving-men  nor  foresters  saw  him  with  you,  you 
are  certain  ?" 

"  Certain — most  certain  !" 

"  So  far  well — these  troopers,  as  you  say,  will  be  here  anon — and  will  search  all  the 
house  ;  but  they  know  me,  that  I  have  not  borne  arms  nor  taken  any  part  in  these  sad 
broils,  and  our  cousin  Chaloner  has  drawn  his  sword  for  the  commonwealth  :  so  that 
if  we  can  hide  him  from  this  first  search,  I  fear  little  but  that  we  may  preserve  him. 
He  must  stay  where  he  is,  at  present,  and  until  they  be  here  and  the  search  over — then 
will  we  have  him  in  when  it's  quite  late,  and  hide  him  in  the  priest's  hole.  Did  any 
of  the  first  party  of  troopers  see  you  ?" 

"  One  did,  and  pointed  me  to  his  next  comrade,  and  I  heard  them  laugh  and  whisper." 

"  Then  this  must  be  your  tale  ;  you  saw  the  first  two  companies  go  by,  and  tarried  at 
the  fishing-house  yet  longer,  but  when  you  heard  the  shots,  you  were  afraid,  and  fled 
across  the  park  to  the  boat-house,  and  came  here  by  the  skiff." 

"  Were  it  not  better,  father,"  she  replied,  "  to  make  no  mention  of  the  boat-house, 
lest  they  should  search  and — " 

"No!  no!"  he  answered — "oh,  no,  no!  They  will  interrogate  the  servants,  and 
learn  where  the  boat  lay,  and  s>  will  suspect  what  you  would  conceal,  even  from  your 
own  omission !" 

"  I  see,"  she  replied,  thoughtfully.     "  Yet  'tis  a  fearful  risk." 

"  It  is  so,  Alice,"  answered  the  old  man — "  it  is  so— yet  fearful  as  it  is,  it  must  be 
run — and  now  away — go  to  your  bower,  and  call  your  tirewoman,  and  dress  as  is  your 
wont ;  and  then  to  supper ;  all  must  go  on  as  usual ;  we  must  leave  them  no  hint  whereon 
to  hang  suspicion." 

She  left  the  library,  and  in  a  little  while  returned  with  her  rich  hair  combed  back 
from  her  fair  brow,  and  neatly  braided,  and  all  her  dress  chastly  arranged  as  for  the 
evening  meal.  The  pair  descended  to  the  hall,  where,  as  was  customary  in  those  unso- 
phisticated days,  the  household  was  assembled  to  partake,  at  the  same  board,  of  the 
same  meal  which  was  prepared  for  their  superiors.  With  easy  dignity,  but  nought  of  stern 
pride  or  of  cold  presumption,  the  aged  gentleman  presided  with  his  sweet  child  beside 
him ;  but  ere  the  meal  was  ended,  the  interruption — by  two  at  least  of  the  party  fully 
expected — occurred  to  break  it  short.  A  trumpet  was  blown  clamorously  at  the  gate- 
house, and  before  it  could  by  any  possibility  have  been  answered,  a  second  and  a  third 
blast  followed. 

"  Go,  some  of  you,  and  see,"  exclaimed  the  master  of  the  house,  with  an  air  of  the 
most  perfect  unconcern — "  go  see  who  calls  so  rudely — bestir  you,  or  the  man  will  blow 
the  gate  down." 

Two  or  three  of  the  badged  green-coated  serving  men,  of  whom  the  hall  was  full,  ran 
off  at  speed  to  perform  his  bidding ;  but  ere  they  reached  the  gates  the  porter  had  dis- 
charged his  duty,  and  forty  or  fifty  of  the  Ironsides  dismounted,  and  marched  in,  their 
long  steel  scabbards  and  huge  boots  clanking  and  clattering  over  the  paved  courtyard, 
while  thrice  as  many  of  their  comrades  were  drawn  up  round  the  house  on  horseback, 
so  as  to  form  a  cordon,  rendering  escape  impossible  except  by  the  moat,  which,  of  course, 
could  not  be  included  in  the  chain  of  sentries. 

"  Ten  men,  with  sergeant  Goodenough,  straight  to  the  water-gate,"'  shouted  a  loud 
authoritative  voice — "cut  down  or  shoot  all  who  attempt  to  pass  without  the  word." 

"  Ha !  here  is  something  more  than  common,"  cried  the  old  man  ;  "  nay,  fear  not, 
gentle  daughter,  I  will  go  see  to  it;"  and  he  arose  as  if  to  put  his  words  into  effect,  when 
the  doors  were  thrown  violently  open,  and  two  officers — one  a  rough-looking  veteran, 
well  seamed  with  scars  of  ancient  honorable  wars,  the  other  a  sleek,  hypocritical-look- 
ing youth,  with  a  head  of  close-cropped  foxy  hair,  and  an  evil  downcast  eye — both  clad 
in  the  full  uniform  of  Cromwell's  Ironsides,  and  with  their  swords  drawn,  entered  ;  while 


Oft,     THE    MAID*S     REVENGE.  9 

about  the  door  clustered  a  group  of  privates,  with  their  musketoons  all  wishing,  and 
their  slow  matches  lighted. 

"  Let  no  one  quit  the  room,  who  would  not  die  the  death ;"  exclaimed  the  first  who 
entered. 

"  What  means  this  outrage,  gentlemen ;  if  gentlemen  ye  be,  who  violently  thus  intrude 
upon  a  female's  presence,  with  your  war-weapons  and  rude  tongues  ?  What  makes  ye 
in  my  peaceful  dwelling  at  this  untimely  hour  ?" 

"It  means,  Mark  Selby,"  replied  the  second,  in  a  low  nasal  strain — "it  means  that 
thou,  despite  our  noble  general's  proclamation,  hast  traitorously  harbored  and  secreted 
one  of  these  rakehell  cavaliers,  whom,  yesterday,  the  Lord  delivered  into  our  hands,  to 
slay  them.  Wherefore,  surrender  him  at  once,  so  shalt  thou  'scape  the  penalty  this  time 
on  strength  of  thy  relationship  with  stout  and  trusty  Henry  Chaloner." 

"  What  cavalier  ?  or  of  whom  speak  ye  ?  I  know  not  whom  ye  mean.  My  household, 
save  the  porter  and  the  scullions,  are  all  here.  Save  we  ourselves,  there  are  none  else 
in  all  the  house." 

"  Lie  not !"  replied  the  young  man,  violently — "  lie  not,  lest  the  Lord  deal  with  ye,  as 
he  dealt  in  old  time  with  Ananias  and  Sapphira." 

"  I  thank  thee  for  thy  courtesy,  and  shall  make  thee  no  answer  any  more.  Search 
the  house  if  ye  will — ye  will  find  no  one  here !" 

"  We  will  search — and  search  thoroughly — yea !  very  thoroughly  !  for  though  thou 
thinkest  it  not,  we  know  your  secret  corners,  your  priest's  holes,  and  your  Jesuit's  hi. 
dings — yea !  we  shall  search  them,  and  rinding  what  we  shall  find — ill  will  it  go  with 
thee.  Keep  guard  thou,  lancepesade,  over  all  here  till  we  return :"  and  with  the  word 
they  left  the  hall  into  which  all  the  household  was  collected,  and  for  two  hours  or  more 
they  were  heard  searching  every  room  and  stair,  and  landing-place  of  the  large  rambling 
edifice — sounding  the  panels  with  their  musket  butts,  thrusting  their  broadswords  into 
every  crevice,  but  evidently  finding  nothing  to  justify  their  violent  intrusion.  At  length 
reentering,  they  strictly  questioned  the  old  servants,  from  whom,  however,  nothing  was 
elicited,  except  that  their  mistress  had  gone  forth  with  the  boat  alone,  some  hour  or  so 
after  the  dinner,  and  had  returned  alone  by  the  water-gate  two  hours  since. 

Then  came  the  lady's  turn,  and,  though  with  something  more  of  delicacy  and  restraint, 
she,  too,  was  very  narrowly  examined.  The  story  she  told,  being  the  literal  truth,  ex- 
cept that  she  omitted  to  say  anything  about  the  cavalier,  and  corresponding  exactly  with 
the  narrative  of  the  servants,  produced  a  very  visible  effect  upon  the  hearers,  who,  having 
searched  all  the  out-houses  and  stables,  and  every  nook  and  corner  in  the  house  without 
finding  anything,  and  having,  in  the  first  instance,  intruded  only  upon  a  vague  suspicion, 
began  to  fear  that  they  had  got  into  a  troublesome  scrape.  After  a  pause,  however — 
"  The  boat-house,"  exclaimed  one,  "  the  boat-house — we  have  not  searched  the  boat- 
house  !  Bring  all  of  them  along — or,  stay — bring  Master  Selby  down,  and  his  fair 
daughter,  to  the  water-gate,  and  we  will  boat  it  over,  they  guiding  us.  Without,  there, 
sergeant — move  a  guard  round  by  the  dam  on  the  moat,  to  the  boat-house." 

The  words  were  not  well  uttered  before  they  were  obeyed,  and  in  ten  minutes  the  whole 
party,  consisting  of  the  officers,  with  six  stout  troopers,  were  floating  in  the  barge  toward 
the  boat-house.  The  face  of  the  old  man  was  stern  and  dark,  and  save  of  anger  and 
resentment,  showed  no  emotion — nor  did  his  daughter,  though  inwardly  her  whole  frame 
shook  with  bitter  and  heart-rending  anguish,  suffer  a  single  tremor  to  betray  her  feminine 
terrors.  The  boat  shot  into  the  little  cove,  the  torches  threw  their  broad  glare  through 
the  whole  building,  and  there  was  nought  to  see. 

"  Here  is  a  platform  and  a  landing,"  cried  the  same  youth  who  had  proposed  to  search 
the  boat-house,  and  who,  with  a  strange  pertinacity,  persisted  still — "  let  us  ashore,  for  I 
doubt  much  we  have  him  here :"  and  landing  on  the  narrow  rib  whereon  the  little  feet 
of  Alice  had  trodden  but  a  short  while  before,  he  strode  with  echoing  tramp  to  the  far 
end,  and  waving  his  torch  round,  discovered  the  entrance  of  the  sail-loft. 

"Ha!  said  I  not  so?"  he  exclaimed,  exultingly — "said  I  not  so?  What  have  we 
up  this  trap,  sweet  Master  Selby?" 


30  MARMADTTKEWYVIL; 

"A  sail-loft,"  answered  he,  very  quietly — "  a  little  place  about  a  foot  or  two  feet  high, 
with  some  old  oars  in  it — best  search  it,  sir — best  search  it ;  there  may  be  a  whole  troop 
of  cavaliers  therein  for  aught  I  know  against  it." 

Poor  Alice  set  her  teeth  and  drew  her  breath  hard,  and  with  a  tremulous  grasp  clung 
to  her  father's  arm  as  he  replied,  "I  will." 

"Tush,  man,"  his  comrade  interposed,  " thou  carriest  caution  to  sheer  folly — seesi 
thou,  there  is  no  ladder?  how  should  a  man  have  mounted — or  having  mounted,  how  in 
God's  name  should  he  lie  there  ?" 

"  They  may  have  cut  the  ladder  down,  lest  it  should  leave  a  clue.  Be  it  as  it  may,  I 
will  assay  it.  Here,  jump  ashore  you,  Martin  and  John  Burney,  hoist  me  into  this  trap, 
and  pass  me"  up  a  torch." 

And  in  a  moment,  by  their  aid,  he  caught  the  edge  of  the  trap  with  his  hands,  draw, 
ing  his  head  and  shoulders  in  till  he  could  hold. himself  up  by  his  elbows;  the  torch  was 
then  passed  up  to  him,  and  he  thrust  it  forward  into  the  loft  a  little  way  up. 

"Well,  Despard,  what  see  you?"  cried  his  comrade. 

"Four  old  oars,  and  a  roll  of  canvas,"  answered  the  disappointed  soldier,  tossing  his 
torch  into  the  water,  and  leaping  down. 

"I  thought  so,"  was  the  answer:  and  a  loud  burst  of  laughter  from  the  Ironsides,  who 
were  tired  out  by  the  fruitless  search,  and  eager  to  get  back  to  quarters,  drowned  the 
convulsive  sob  which  Alice  could  not  master. 

With  brief  and  blunt  excuse  the  troopers  mounted  and  departed — the  Hall  was  again 
quiet,  and  when  they  were  again  left  to  themselves  in  the  old  library,  Alice  fell  suddenly 
into  her  father's  arms,  and  burst  into  a  flood  of  weeping. 


CHAPTER:III. 

IT  was  long  after  the  departure  of  the  Ironsides,  before  the  excited  feelings  of  the  fair 
girl  were  in  the  least  degree  composed ;  but  gradually,  when  the  harsh  clank  of  their 
march,  and  the  shrill  clangor  of  their  trumpet  had  subsided  into  absolute  stillness,  or 
rather  into  that  soft  and  soothing  mixture  of  natural  and  accustomed  sounds,  which,  after 
the  home  ear  has  grown  acquainted  with  their  never-ending  murmur,  pass  for  entire 
silence — the  violent  fits  of  half-convulsive  sobbing  which  had  at  first  shaken  her  whole 
frame,  ceased,  and  the  tears  flowed  in  a  quiet  and  unpainful  stream.  These,  -too,  by 
slow  degrees,  dimininished,  and  at  last  flowed  no  longer.  It  was  not  grief,  however, 
nor  even  sorrow  that  had  called  forth  so  strange  and  passionate  emotions  from  that  calm 
bosom ;  for  the  whole  heart  was  full  of  deep  and  tranquil  gratitude  to  Him,  by  whose 
good  providence  the  stranger  had  been  preserved  from  his  bloodthirsty  enemies — much 
less  was  it  all  joy,  for  though  there  was  a  sense  of  happiness,  or  of  relief  at  least  from 
terrible  anxiety,  springing  up  from  the  depths  of  her  pure  soul,  yet  there  was  nothing 
strong  or  passionate,  nothing  tumultuous  in  the  character  of  that  pure  stilly  pleasure.  No, 
it  was  merely  the  reaction  of  a  mind  over-tensely  strung  during  the  late  dread  scenes. 
It  had  been  only  by  an  exertion  almost  too  great  for  female  powers,  that  she  had  crushed 
down  into  her  inmost  soul  all  semblance  of  anxiety  or  interest  during  the  search  of 
the  rude  Puritans ;  yet  so  completely  had  she  crushed  it  down  while  in  the  presence  of 
those  stern  inquisitors,  that  not  only  had  she  compelled  her  steps  to  be  equal,  and  her 
hand  steady,  but  she  had  actually  forced  her  cheek  and  lip  to  retain  their  wonted  color — 
her  eye  its  quiet  undisturbed  expression.  And  well  was  it  for  that  young  stranger  that 
she  did  so.  For  it  was  even  less,  the  grave  unmoved  demeanor  of  the  aged  gentle, 
man — less,  the  unconsciousness  of  the  alarmed  domestics — than  the  perfect  tranquility 
of  that  sweet  and  lovely  maiden,  which  had  convinced  them  that  their  searching  longer 
would  be  but  a  vain  labor. 

I 


OR,     THE     MAID'S     KEVENGE.  11 

It  had  been  some  suspicion — vague  indeed  and  indefinite — that  she  might  have  con- 
cealed the  cavalier,  without  the  knowledge  of  the  household,  by  which  the  leaders  of 
the  party  had  been  induced  to  search  the  boat-house ;  and  therefore  had  they  caused  her 
to  accompany  them;  that,  if  their  doubts  were  true,  some  terror  or  expression  of  alarm 
might,  as  they  judged,  inevitable  betray  the  secret  of  his  hiding-place.  And  so  far  were 
they  right,  that  it  had  only  been  by  dint  of  almost  superhuman  fortitude  that  she  forebore 
to  scream  aloud  in  the  intensity  of  her  excitement,  when  they  persisted  in  examining 
the  sail-loft,  wherein,  scarcely  six  inches  from  the  torch  of  bis  pursuer,  the  object  of  her 
care  lay  hidden. 

Exci  tement,  such  as  this,  must  end  in  a  revulsion ;  and  it  was  fortunate  that  there 
was  cause  enough  apparent,  to  have  disturbed  the  equilibrium  of  her  mind,  in  the  events 
which  had  transpired  in  the  full  sight  of  all — so  that  the  outbreak  of  hysterical  passion 
called  forth  no  more  alarm,  than  a  mere  fit  of  feminine  terror,  from  the  assiduous  attendants 
who  crowded  round  their  beloved  mistress,  with  all  the  remedies  of  essences,  strong 
waters  and  the  like,  which  their  ignorant  but  kindly  zeal  could  dictate. 

Gradually,  as  we  have  said,  however,  her  tears  ceased  to  flow ;  and,  as  her  mind 
regained  its  usual  serene  and  balanced  tenor,  she  recollected  that  there  was  yet  much 
more  to  do,  and  much  more  cause  than  ever  to  avoid  wakening  suspicion.  With  her  to 
see  the  right,  and  to  perform  it,  were  scarcely  the  results  of  a  two-fold  operation ;  and 
bidding  her  tirewoman-  await  her  coming  in  her  own  chamber,  she  dismissed  all  the 
rest ;  her  father  adding  his  injunction,  that  as  the  hour  of  bedtime  was  long  passed,  they 
should  not  linger  in  the  hall  with  idle  gossipings,  else  there  would  be  late  rising  in  the 
morn.  No  more  was  said ;  but  in  those  good  old  days,  and  in  that  orderly  and  peaceful 
household,  there  was  no  doubt  that  his  words  would  be  obeyed  even  to  the  letter.  In  a 
few  moments  the  old  gray-headed  porter  brought  in  the  keys  of  the  great  gate  and  water- 
port,  and  laid  them  on  the  table  by  his  master's  hand,  and  before  half  an  hour,  except 
in  old  Mark's  library,  and  in  the  chamber  of  his  sweet  child,  there  was  not  a  light 
burning,  nor  an  eye  unclosed,  through  the  whole  building. 

Hours  were  early  in  those  days,  so  that  the  clock  had  barely  stricken  ten  when  all 
the  fires  were  quenched  and  lights  extinguished.  Eleven — twelve — one,  followed — the 
deep  sounds  of  the  stable  clock-house,  solemnly  booming  through  the  lonely  night ;  and 
still  the  lamp  burned  steadily  in  the  small  library ;  and  the  two  lighted  windows  might 
be  seen  a*bove  the  courtyard  wall,  and  through  the  foliage  of  the  park  plantations,  even 
£S  far  as  the  high  road,  had  any  one  be-en  watching  them. 

And  one  was  watching  them.  The  younger  of  the  Puritan  officers,  wrapped  in  his 
scarlet  watch-cloak,  was  standing  on  the  platform  of  the  fish-house,  with  a  neighboring 
farmer,  dressed  in  his  usual  toil-worn  garb  beside  him,  and  a  stout  trooper  holding  some 
five  or  six  saddled  chargers  on  the  bridge. 

Just  as  the  clock  struck  one,  the  soldier  stamped  impatiently.  "  Doth  the  old  hoary 
dotard  keep  watch  thus  always,  till  'tis  morning?"  he  exclaimed,  turning  toward  the 
rustic. 

"  Ay,  ay,  sir ;"  he  replied — "  I'll  warrant  him.  Master  Mark's  a  great  scholar, 
I've  heard  tell,  and  speaks  all  sorts  of  untold  old-time  tongues.  And  so  you  see  he 
keeps  a  poring  over  a  sight  o'  musty  books  night  after  night.  Many's  the  time  and  often, 
when  I've  been  kept  from  home  past  common,  at  Worcester  market  or  the  like,  I've 
seen  yon  light  in  yon  two  selfsame  windows,  while  three  o'clock  o'  the  morning.  And 
yet  the  old  man's  astir  with  the  cock,  too — that's  what  does  bother  me  like — " 

"  See  !  see  !"  the  other  interrupted  him,  "  it  has  gone  out." 

"Ay,  ay.  Now  we  shall  see  it  cross  the  next  three  windows  to  the  right,  then  if  any 
one  were  watching  the  west  end,  he  might  see  it  a  little  while  in  the  west  gable.  The 
old  man's  chamber's  there,  next  to  young  mistress's  bower." 

While  he  yet  spoke,  the  light ,  as  of  a  candle  or  a  lamp  in  motion,  flitted  across  the 
three  tall  casements  to  the  right,  and  disappearing,  the  southern  front  of  the  old  Hall  waa 
left  in  absolute  darkness. 

"  Well !  there  it  does  go,  of  a  surety,"  replied  the  Puritan,  "  and  there  is  one  to  watch 
on  &3  ??£  £?&  <P°  they  burn  tapers  all  night  through  in  their  bed-chambers  ?" 


12 

"No,  not  a  light  is  burnt  in  all  the  house,  when  the  old  master's  lamp  is  out ;  that's 
the  last  always — ever  since  I  was  a  boy!" 

"  Peradventure,  then,  we  shall  know  more  anon,"  returned  the  other,  and  then  relapsed 
into  silence,  awaiting  the  arrival  of  his  subordinate  watchers.  Nor  had  he  very  long  to 
wait ;  for  scarcely  half  an  hour  had  gone  by  since  the  removal  of  the  lamp,  when  nearly 
simultaneously  three  came  up,  though  from  different  directions ;  and  made  their  several 
reports  all  to  the  same  effect,  that  not  a  mouse  had  stirred  about  the  Hall  for  three  hours  ; 
and  that  now  every  candle  was  extinguished,  and  every  soul  abed  for  certain." 

"  Well,  then,  we  have  but  lost  our  time  ;  and  they  know  nought  about  this  same  ma- 
lignant, who  'scaped  us  here  so  strangely,"  muttered  the  officer  between  his  clenched 
teeth.  "  Mount,  men,  mount,  and  away ;  we'll  beat  these  woods  for  many  a  mile  to- 
morrow." 

"  Had  you  known  the  folks  at  the  Hall,  as  I  do,  master,"  the  farmer  interposed, 
"  you  never  would  have  dreamed  o'  thinking  that  they  did.  Lord !  sir,  they  are  the 
scariest,  timidest,  ease-lovingest  people — they  never  trouble  their  heads  with  no  politics, 
nor  parties !" 

"  Well,  well,  good  friend,  it  is  no  harm  to  be  assured  !  and  so  good  night  to  thee," 
the  soldier  answered,  striking  his  spurs  into  his  horse's  flank,  and  galloping  off,  followed 
by  his  men,  at  a  rate  that  soon  left  the  quiet  woods  of  Woolverton  many  a  mile  behind 
him. 

"  Good  devil  go  with  thee  !"  muttered  the  countryman,  as  they  rode  off,  "  and  with 
all  like  to  thee,  thou  cheat  and  hypocrite  !  I  trow  now,  thou  may  be  mistaken  yet,  for 
all  thy  cunning !  If  Mistress  Alice  had  fallen  in  with  the  poor  youth,  I  warrant  me  she 
would  a  hid  him  somewhere,  in  spite  all  danger !  So  I'll  away  up  to  the  Hall  to-morrow, 
and  see  about  it,  for  if  so  be  there  be  aught  i'  the  wind,  I'll  have  a  finger  in't,  or  my 
name  is  not  John  Sherlock." 

Times  of  great  peril  and  emergency  have  not  unfrequently  been  known  to  impart  a 
species  of  instinctive  and  instantaneous  shrewdness  to  minds  not  previously  remarkable 
for  any  such  quality.  Bookmen,  and  grave  secluded  scholars,  intuitively,  as  it  were, 
under  the  pressure  of  great  present  peril  or  necessity,  have  been  known  to  attain  the 
;  kill  of  practiced  generals,  the  craftiness  of  the  most  subtle  partisans.  So  in  this  in- 
stance was  it  with  Mark  Selby.  Born  of  an  old  and  honorable  family,  a  second  son,  he 
had  been  educated  many  long  years  before  with  a  view  to  taking  orders ;  and  the  grave 
tastes  and  habits  which  he  had  then  acquired,  clung  to  him  afterwards,  when,  by  his 
brother's  death — who  fell  at  Zutphen,  fighting  by  Philip  Sidney's  side — he  became  heir 
of  Woolverton  ;  and,  of  course,  with  his  altered  fortunes,  abandoned  the  profession  to 
which  he  had  before  been  destined.  Never,  during  his  earliest  and  gayest  youth,  had 
he  been  a  frequenter  of  courts,  or  even  an  associate  in  the  daring  field-sports  or  jovial 
festivities  of  the  neighboring  gentry.  Long  after  his  succession  to  the  family  estates, 
when  he  was  far  advanced  already  in  the  vale  of  years,  he  had  taken  to  wife  the  daughter 
of  a  baronet,  whose  estates  paired  with  Woolverton — a  fair  and  lovely  creature,  whose 
living  type  we  have  beheld  in  Alice.  Her  he  lost  young,  after  having  followed  to  the 
grave  two  sons,  his  first  born ;  the  infant  Alice  being  left  alone  to  his  paternal  care. 
Thus  situate,  more  gloomy  every  day  had  waxed  the  aged  widower's  abode — more  in- 
eradicably  were  those  bookworm  habits  fixed — till  Alice,  from  a  sweet  prattling  child, 
the  licenced  interrupter  of  the  father's  musings,  had  grown  up  to  be  the  pure  and  lovely 
thing  she  was,  when  the  occurrences  fell  out  which  it  is  ours  to  narrate.  Rarely  was 
old  Mark  Selby  seen  abroad  by  any — rarely  at  home,  save  by  the  members  of  his  own 
quiet  household — no  scenes  of  broil  or  riot  or  warfare  had  ever  been  beheld  by  him, 
much  less  had  he  been  an  actor  in  any  such.  Yet  had  he  read,  and  mused,  and  dreamed 
— that  he  could  have  performed  the  deeds,  and  undergone  the  woes,  and  braved  the 
terrors  which  his  loved  heroes  of  historic  lore  had  done,  and  borne,  and  braved,  un- 
daunted— and  now  in  his  old  age  was  he  tried — tried,  and  not  then  found  wanting. 

After  his  daughter  had  retired  to  rest,  he  had  conceived  it  very  likely  that  some — as 
indeed  was  the  case— of  the  Puritans  might  yet  linger  on  the  watch  without,  and  that 


OR,     THE     MAID*S     REVENGE.  13 

any  deviation  from  the  wonted  customs  of  his  household,  would  certainly  create  suspicion. 
Before  she  went,  he  had  promised  Alice,  himself  to  rouse  her  from  her  slumbers,  if  any 
slumber  she  might  take,  when  the  time  should  arrive  for  admitting  the  young  Royalist 
to  a  more  safe  retreat  than  that  which  he  now  occupied  ;  and  after  she  was  gone,  though 
anxious  and  excited,  he  sat  down  to  his  books,  not  at  the  first  without  an  effort ;  but 
after  he  had  sat  some  time,  he  returned  to  his  ordinary  frame  of  mind,  and  read,  and 
pondered,  and  made  notes,  until  the  period  should  arrive;  apparently,  and  indeed  really, 
as  fully  engrossed  in  his  subject,  as  though  no  graver  matter  than  the  full  force  of  the 
particle  TC  had  occupied  his  meditations. 

It  would,  however,  have  been  worthy  of  remark — to  those  who  make  the  human 
mind  their  study — that  while  his  understanding  was  devoted  altogether  to  the  unravel- 
ling of  an  obscure  passage  in  one  of  Pindar's  darkest  Pythian  odes,  to  which  he  had 
turned  in  the  hopes  of  gleaning  thence  some  light  whereby  to  to  see  into  the  depths  of 
some  yet  deeper  classic  mystery,  he  was  still  quite  awake  to  all  the  exigencies  and  the 
perils  of  his  immediate  position.  Had  he  not  been  indeed  fully  aware  of  the  necessity 
of  being  tranquil,  it  had  not,  perhaps,  been  within  his  power  so  calmly  to  have  followed 
his  accustomed  studies.  Had  he  not  been  a  student,  it  would,  perhaps,  have  frustrated 
his  utmost  coolness  so  to  have  waited  the  event.  Yet  was  the  result  of  the  strange 
mixture — the  blending  of  the  feelings  of  the  scholar  and  the  man — simple  although  they 
were,  untaught  and  natural — the  most  complete  and  perfect  skill,  and  craft  and  subtlety, 
that  ever  graced  the  wariest  and  most  wily  partisan. 

When  the  lamp  was  extinguished  in  the  library,  and  the  hand-taper  cast  its  flickering 
light,  as  witnessed  by  the  wakeful  Puritans,  across  the  lattices  of  the  less  frequented 
apartments,  the  old  man,  indeed,  retired  to  his  chamber;  and  when  there,  had  at  once 
cast  himself  into  a  large  arm-chair,  where  he  reclined  for  many  minutes  absorbed  in  the 
deepest  mental  meditation. 

After  a  while  he  started  up,  and  for  a  moment  it  was  in  his  thoughts  to  pass  directly 
to  his  daughter's  chamber,  but  in  an  instant — and  he  scarce  knew  why — his  mind  was 
altered  ;  for  he  had  little  thought  that  any  were  still  in  ambuscade  without,  watching 
his  every  movement — and  he  stood  quietly  before  the  casements,  with  the  bright  lamp 
behind  him,  casting  his  shadow  on  the  wide  illuminated  panes.  He  threw  his  dress 
aside,  put  out  the  light,  and  cast  himself  down  heavily  upon  the  bed.  And  there  were 
those  upon  the  watch  who  saw  all  this,  albeit  he  knew  it  not,  and  testified  thereto  in 
after  days  ;  and  it  was  well  for  him  he  did  so. 

After  a  space  of  deep  and  almost  painful  meditation,  he  once  again  arose.  The  moon 
was  shining  clearly,  as  she  waded  with  uncertain  gleams  among  the  scattered  clouds, 
through  the  tall  latticed  casements ;  and  there  was  light  enough,  that  the  old  man  eould 
find  his  scattered  garments,  and  attire  himself  without  the  need  of  kindling  any  lamp. 
Once  dressed,  he  opened  his  door  carefully,  but  without  any  fear,  for  the  domestics  slept 
far  from  the  inhabited  apartments  of  the  Hall,  and  took  his  way  through  the  old  well, 
known  passages,  directly  to  his  daughter's  chamber.  The  rays  fell  misty  and  dim  through 
the  stained  windows  as  he  passed,  and  many  an  indistinct  and  fleeting  shadow  wavered 
across  his  path,  as  he  went  onward ;  but  in  too  deep  a  school  of  philosophic  thought  had 
he  been  trained,  to  cast  a  single  thought  to  superstitious  tremors  ;  and  student  though  he 
was,  he  had  too  deeply  proved  life's  stern  realities  to  blench  for  any  shadow. 

He  reached  the  fair  girl's  chamber,  and  entered  all  unsummoned — and  the  same 
bright  pure  lustre,  which  had  enabled  him  to  don  his  dress  without  the  aid  of  lamp  or 
taper,  was  pouring  upon  her  virgin  couch,  as  she  lay  all  disrobed  and  tranquil,  but 
thoughtful,  and  awake,  and  full  of  her  high  purpose,  as  she  awaited  the  appointed  time. 

"  Father  !"  she  whispered,  in  soft  but  untrembling  accents,  as  his  hand  touched  the 
latch.  "Father!  is't  thou  ?  then  tarry  but  for  a  little  moment's  space  without,  and  I 
will  join  thee ;"  and  with  the  words,  she,  too,  arose.  And  hastily,  but  yet  completely, 
she  attired  herself  in  plain  dark  garments  of  simple  country  fashion  ;  and  ere  ten  minutes 
had  elapsed  she  stood  beside  him,  silent,  in  the  dark  corridor. 

<{  Now  to  the  library !"  he  whispered,  and  with  slow  faltering  steps  they  groped  their 


14  MARMADtTKE     WYVIL; 

war  through  the  large,  vacant,  lonely  rooms ;  and  reached  it  at  last,  breathless  and 
panting — not  from  the  speed  at  which  they  had  advanced,  but  that  they  had  scarce 
drawn  a  full  breath  since  they  left  her  chamber.  Once  there,  a  feeble  glimmering  light 
shone  in,  transversely  and  reflected — for  the  moon's  rays  touched  not  the  southern  front 
— and  they  were  able  to  distinguish  things,  though  indistinctly. 

"  So  far,"  the  old  man  whispered — "  so  far  all's  well ;  no  living  ear  has  heard  that  we 
are  stirring,  and  if  you  lack  not  courage  to  finish  out  what  you  have  well  begun,  there 
is  no  more  of  danger.  But  look  you,  we  have  need  of  caution.  No  door  must  be 
unlocked — no  foot  must  tread  the  staircase.  I  have  a  silken  ladder  here,  framed  long 
ago  against  emergency  of  fire ;  it  will  I  let  down  from  this  casement  under  the  shadow 
of  yon  pine  ;  by  it  you  must  descend — creep  through  the  garden  greens,  avoiding  the 
bright  court — enter  the  water-tower,  and  making  there  your  signal,  admit  your  guest 
with  your  own  hands.  By  the  same  path  you  must  return  together ;  I  will  await  you 
here  ;  hence  opens,  as  you  know,  the  passage.  Have  you  the  courage,  girl?" 

"  Lower  the  ladder,  father,"  she  answered  in  a  whisper — "  lower  the  ladder,  and  give 
me  the  keys !" 

"  So  brave,"  he  said,  half  musingly — "  so  brave,  and  yet  so  young !"  and  he  paused 
long,  and  shook  his  hoary  head,  and  seemed  to  hesitate  ;  but  then,  "  Well !  well !"  he 
said.  "  Well !  well !  God's  hand,  I  trow,  is  in  it — and  on  it  be  his  bem'son ;"  and 
without  further  words,  after  a  little  groping  in  the  dark,  he  drew  out  the  rope  ladder  he 
had  mentioned,  and  lowered  it  from  the  extreme  west  window,  across  which  fell  the 
broad  and  massy  shadow  cast  by  the  largest  of  the  giant  pines  which  we  have  named 
above.  He  handed  her  the  key,  pressed  her  with  a  long  lingering  pressure  to  his  bosom, 
and  printed  one  kiss  on  her  brow. 

"  The  God  of  mercy  go  with  thee,"  he  said,  "  my  child — for  that  thine  errand  is  of 
mercy." 

i  Another  moment  and  she  had  passed  the  window-sill,  and  with  a  firm  step,  and  un- 
trembling  though  delicate  hold,  she  trod  the  shaking  rungs,  and  stood  in  safety  at  the 
bottom.  For  one  short  second  more,  the  old  man's  eye  could  follow  her  threading  the 
mazes  of  the  labyrinthine  shrubs  ;  then  she  was  lost,  and  in  a  moment  more  had  entered 
the  untenanted  and  lonely  water-tower.  It  was  all  dark  as  a  wolf's  mouth,  save  where 
one  faint  and  broken  ray  fell  through  the  embrasure,  half  intercepted  by  the  breech  of 
the  huge  gun;  yet  cool  in  every  movement,  and  collected,  she  felt  her  way  down  the 
rude  steps,  unlocked  the  inner  gate,  and  half  raised  the  portcullis  by  aid  of  the  compli- 
cated winch,  which  moved  it  in  the  groove  of  stone  wherein  it  traversed.  Retracing 
instantly  her  steps,  after  some  minutes  spent  in  search,  she  found  the  porter's  tinder-box 
and  link.  She  struck  a  light,  and  for  a  second's  space  the  red  glare  shot  out  through 
the  lattice ;  yet  so  low  did  it  strike,  that  a  spectator,  standing  ten  yards  beyond  the 
moat's  south  bank,  could  have  seen  nought  of  it.  She  blew  it  out,  and  counted  ten, 
and  lit  it  once  again,  and  so  on  till  the  third  time ;  and  as  she  blew  it  out,  a  slight  splash 
reached  her  ears,  and  in  a  moment  after  a  waving  movement  of  the  water,  and  a  deep 
panting  breath — and  she  received  him  at  the  steps,  and  led  him  upward  to  the  embra- 
sure, and  lowered  the  portcullis  once  again,  and  locked  the  gate,  and  thrust  the  key  into 
her  girdle. 

j®  "  Be  silent  for  your  life,"  she  whispered,  as  speedily  she  led  him  through  the  low 
postern  gate  ;  but  when  she  reached  the  open  air,  it  flashed  upon  her  mind  that  she  had 
not  replaced  the  half  burned  flambeau  with  its  appropriate. flint  and  steel,  in  the  same 
niche  where  it  lay  when  she  found  it ;  and  laying  her  finger  on  her  lip,  as  they  two 
stood  in  the  half  shadow  of  the  twilight  garden,  she  tripped  back,  and  placed  it  rightly 
— so  to  avoid  suspicion.  Quickly  they  traced  the  shrubbery  paths,  and  reached  the 
pendent  ladder ;  one  signal  and  he  climbed  it,  and  scarcely  was  he  well  landed  in  the 
library,  before  she  too  was  in  the  room. 

"  Not  a  word,  sir,  not  a  word !"  exclaimed  Marc  Selby,  in  one  of  those  sharp  whispers 
which  fill  the  ear  far  more  than  the  deep  roar  of  ordnance.  "  Not  a  word,  if  you  would 
not  betray  your  reecuer  I'* 


Oft,     THE     MAID'S     REVENGE.  15 

And  they  three  stood  there  silent,  in  the  pervading  hush  of  deep  awe,  and  yet  deeper 
feeling ;  while  the  old  man  drew  in  the  ladder,  and  laid  it  by  in  its  accustomed  place, 
and  closed  the  latticed  window.  Then,  after  searching  about  yet  another  while,  he 
drew  forth  from  a  drawer  in  an  old  cabinet,  a  small  old-fashioned  lamp,  with  flint  and 
steel  and  matches — a  flask  of  wine  or  cordial,  and  a  strangely-shaped  brazen  key. 
Giving  all  these  to  the  young  cavalier,  he  turned  to  a  compartment  of  the  library  wall, 
covered  by  shelves  well  stored  with  ponderous  books ;  drew  out  one  folio  volume,  and 
turned  an  iron  button,  replaced  it,  pressed  a  spring  this  way,  and  turned  a  screw-head 
that,  and  the  whole  bookcase,  with  its  load,  from  floor  to  ceiling,  revolved  upon  a  pivot, 
disclosing  the  bare  plastered  wall,  with  a  low-browed  arch,  descending,  as  it  seemed, 
into  the  outer  wall,  and  full  of  black  impenetrable  darkness. 

"Alice,"  the  old  man  said,  "  to-bed  !  we  will  speak  more  to-morrow.  Pass  in,  sir !" 
and  the  girl  left  the  room,  and  hurried  to  her  chamber  with  a  glad  but  quick-throbbing 
heart ;  and  the  stranger  entered  the  dark  passage,  and  old  Mark  Selby  followed  him, 
and  drew  the  concealed  door,  masked  by  the  ponderous  book-shelves,  after  him  ;  and 
the  old  library  was  tenantless  again,  and  not  a  soul  could  have  suspected,  though  he  had 
searched  it  for  a  month,  that  private  passage.  But  when  they  stood  within  it,  the  old 
man  struck  a  light,  and  lit  the  lamp,  and  raised  it  to  the  face  of  his  new  guest,  and 
gazed  into  his  features  as  though  he  would  have  read  his  soul. 

"  Ha !"  he  said — "  ha !"  and  paused  again  a  little  while,  and  then — "  be  it  so.  I  will 
trust  you !"  and  no  word  passed  between  them  more,  for  the  old  man  almost  angrily 
imposed  strict  silence  when  the  stranger  would  have  spoken.  And  far  he  led  him,  by 
long  and  winding  corridors,  delved  through  the  thickness  of  the  wall,  up  stairs  and  down, 
till  he  had  brought  him  to  a  low  dark  vault,  scarce  six  feet  perpendicular  height,  by 
twelve  in  circuit ;  in  which  there  stood  a  table  of  dark  oak,  an  old  armed  chair,  two  or 
three  stools  of  the  same  plain  material,  and  a  low  pallet  bed  heaped  high  with  blankets, 
and  soft  coverlets,  and  sheets  of  snowy  whiteness.  Besides  these  articles  of  furniture, 
the  gloomy  chamber  contained  nothing  but  a  few  shelves  in  one  corner,  whereon  were 
piled  two  or  three  pewter  platters,  an  earthen  bowl  and  pitcher,  a  salt-cellar,  a  knife 
case,  a  cruise  of  oil,  and  four  tall  Venice  wine-glasses.  There  was  no  carpet  on  the 
floor,  nor  any  hangings  on  the  bare  plastered  walls ;  nor  was  there  any  window  or  even 
shot-hole,  whereat  a  single  ray  of  blessed  daylight  could  pass  in  to  cheer  the  sad  soul 
of  the  inmate.  As  if  to  compensate,  however,  for  this  want,  there  were  no  less  than 
three  doors  besides  that  which  had  admitted  them,  massy  and  steel-clenched,  and 
secured  by  bolts  of  singular  device,  and  bars,  and  chains  of  iron. 

"  This  is  a  poor  abode,  young  sir,"  said  Selby,  as  he  eat  down  the  lamp  upon  the 
table  ;  "  but  it  is  safe  at  least,  and  that  to  one  in  your  condition  is  something  always. 
No  person  now  alive,  save  Alice  and  myself,  knows  the  existence  of  this  hiding-place, 
much  less  the  ways  which  lead  to  it ;  and  you,  before  you  quit  it,  must  swear  by  all  that 
men  hold  holy,  never  by  word  or  deed,  by  sign  or  hint  or  writing,  to  reveal  it.  Mean- 
time, here  will  we  shelter  you,  until  such  time  as  we  may  send  you  forth  in  safety. 
Food  shall  be  brought  you  daily,  and  lights,  and  change  of  raiment,  and,  if  you  wish  it, 
books ;  but  on  society  you  must  not  count — not  even  on  ours — for  carefully  we  must 
eschew  suspicion.  Before  I  leave  you  to  repose,  one  other  secret  of  your  abode  I  must 
disclose  to  you."  He  opened,  as  he  spoke,  another  door,  and  showed  a  narrow  stair- 
way winding,  as  it  seemed,  downward  into  interminable  gloom. 

"  At  the  foot  of  those  steps,"  he  said,  pointing  through  the  opening,  "  you  will  find 
what  appears  a  square  well  of  water,  and  by  it  a  trap-door ;  the  first  will  furnish  you 
the  means  of  cleanliness  and  comfort,  and  by  the  latter  you  may  cast  into  the  moat 
nightly  the  remnants  of  your  food,  and  aught  else  that,  if  discovered  here  in  case  of  any 
search,  might  cause  suspicion.  On  no  account,  however,  enter  the  well  to  bathe  ;  for 
it  were  certain  death,  unless  you  knew  the  secret.  Be  careful,  when  you  pass  these 
stairs,  to  do  so  very  silently ;  here  you  cannot  be  heard,  though  you  should  sing  or 
whistle — there  it  were  perilous  indeed !  The  other  doors  lead  elsewhere,  and  are 
locked  Let  me  know  now,  who  is  my  guest ;  and  pledge  me,  as  a  soldier  and  a  gen. 


16  MARMADtTKE 

tleman,  your  word  of  honor  not  to  leave  this  apartment,  except  by  the  door  I  have 
shown  you  leading  to  the  water ;  you  would  risk  all  our  lives  by  wandering  about  the 
corridors." 

'•'  My  name  is  Wyvil — Marmaduke  Wyvil,  of  Allerton  Mauleverer  in  Yorkshire, 
serving  till  yesterday  as  captain  in  my  good  friend  and  kinsman  Sir  Philip  Musgrave's 
regiment  of  horse,  not  ten  of  whom  now  hold  together — not  fifty  of  whom  now  are 
numbered  with  the  living.  Alas !  for  thee,  my  friend,  my  more  than  brother — good, 
gallant,  murdered  Musgrave !  Alas!  for  the  good  cause,  that  is  a  cause  no  longer!" 
and  as  he  said  the  words,  he  wrung  his  hands  till  the  blood  started  from  the  finger-nails, 
and  burst  into  a  paroxysm  of  violent  sobs  and  weeping.  In  a  few  minutes,  however, 
he  recovered  himself  somewhat,  and  mastering  his  passion,  as  it  seemed,  by  a  strong 
effort,  "  Pardon  me,"  he  said  ;  "  this  is  unmanly,  very  weak  and  trivial ;  but  I  am  weak 
from  weariness  and  watching,  and  from  the  want  of  food  ;  pardon  me,  I  beseech  you, 
my  kind  friend  and  preserver." 

"  That  can  I  not  do,  my  young  friend,"  returned  the  other, "  seeing  that  there  is  nought 
to  pardon.  The  cause  you  speak  of,  I  respect  and  love  ;  and  had  there  been  less  years 
upon  my  head,  should  have  armed  for  it.  Your  feelings  for  your  lost  friend  I  honor — 
we  will  talk  more  to-morrow !  meantime  throw  off  your  dripping  garments,  drink  a  cup 
or  two  of  this  sovereign  cordial,  stretch  yourself  on  your  humble  bed — and  after  one 
night's  safe  and  peaceful  sleep,  I  warrant  me  I  find  you  a  new  man  in  the  morning." 
He  had  already  trimmed  and  lighted  a  brazen  lamp  which  stood  upon  the  board,  and 
now  reached  down  two  glasses,  filling  them  to  the  brim  from  the  long-necked  flask  he 
had  brought  with  him.  "  I  drink,"  he  then  said — "  I  drink  Captain  Wyvil,  to  your  good 
repose,  and  leave  you  to  it  straightway.  Lock  the  door  after  me  when  I  go  forth  ;  and 
open  it  not,  save  for  my  voice  or  that  of  Alice — no  thanks,  my  friend,  no  thanks  !  Now 
God  be  with  you,  and  farewell !"  and  without  suffering  him  to  answer,  he  shook  his 
young  guest  warmly  by  the  hand,  and  left  him. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

AT  little  more  than  a  mile's  distance  from  Woolverton  Hall,  not  situated,  however, 
on  the  Worcester  turnpike,  but  on  another  road  passing  the  principal  entrance  of  the 
Park,  and  forming  its  northern  boundary,  stood  a  small  wayside  inn,  deeply  embosomed 
in  the  woodlands  which,  at  the  period  of  our  narrative,  overspread  many  a  mile  of  that 
fair  country.  This  road,  which  entered  the  main  turnpike  some  three  miles  to  the  east- 
ward of  the  Hall,  was  one  of  those  innumerable  country  tracks  which  traverse  all  the 
agricultural  parts  of  England,  winding  about  with  no  regard  whatever  to  the  space 
occupied,  or  the  needless  miles  included  in  their  sinuosities ;  wandering  '  like  rivers  at 
their  own  sweet  will,'  and  affording  the  only  means  of  communication  to  the  inhabitants 
of  many  a  sequestered  hamlet,  many  a  lowly  grange  ;  devious  indeed  and  long,  but  all- 
sufficient  to  the  simple  wants  of  the  people,  and  full  in  themselves  of  picturesque  and 
rural  beauty.  Its  narrow  wheel-track  was  bordered  on  each  hand  by  many  yards  of 
deep  rich  greensward,  pied  everywhere  in  the  early  spring-time  with  tufts  of  the  soft 
saffron  primrose,  and  perfumed  by  the  rich  scent  of  unnumbered  violets — tall  straggling 
hawthorn  hedges,  overrun  in  summer  by  the  bee-haunted  tendrils  of  the  honeysuckles, 
and  the  flaunting  streamers  of  the  dogrose,  shaded  it  from  the  morning  and  the  evening 
sunbeams ;  while  overhead,  it  was  so  thickly  canopied  by  elm  and  ash  and  many  a 
giant  oak,  that  scarce  a  ray  could  penetrate  the  shadowy  foliage  at  high  noon.  So  sel- 
dom too  did  this  road  run  any  distance  in  a  direct  straight  line,  that  spots  were  rare 
indeed,  where  the  eye  of  a  traveller  could  see  a  hundred  yards  before  him.  It  was  upon 
this  winding  lane,  in  preference  to  the  broad  and  dusty  turnpike,  that  the  gates  of  the 


OR,     THE     MAID'S     REVENGE.  17 

Hall,  consisting  of  a  low  massive  arch  of  antique  brickwork  between  two  short  and  stub- 
born  looking  towers,  now  so  completely  mantled  with  dark  ivy  that  the  very  outlines  of 
their  form  were  lost,  had  been  placed  by  the  original  founder ;  and  it  was  at  about  a 
mile's  distance  from  these,  toward  the  west,  and  consequently  so  much  the  farther  from 
the  highway,  that  the  '  Stag's  Head,'  for  such  was  the  well-known  sign  of  the  little 
hostelrie,  invited  passers  by  to  taste  its  humming  ale  and  stores  of  rustic  cheer. 

It  was  a  quaint  and  curious  building,  that  old  inn,  consisting  of  a  long  front  of  a  single 
story,  with  three  projecting  gables,  one  in  the  centre  and  one  at  either  end,  protruding 
some  six  feet  into  the  road,  and  having  the  upper  stories,  which  were  in  each  entirely 
occupied  by  a  large  latticed  window  of  four  or  five  compartments,  again  thrust  forward 
about  the  same  distance  in  advance  IK  i\ieir  bases.  Below  the  window  in  the  central 
gable  was  a  wide  low-browed  doorway,  or  porch  rather,  of  black  oak,  with  the  weather- 
bleached  skull  and  broad  branched  antlers  of  a  huge  red  deer  nailed  above  it,  and  a  long 
bench  on  either  side  within.  The  two  end  gables  and  the  flat  fronts  between  them, 
showed  several  lattices,  but  of  irregular  heights  and  sizes,  all  neatly  curtained  with  white 
dimity,  and  decked  with  pots  of  lavender,  balm,  rosemary  and  other  savory  herbs,  to 
gratify  the  smell  or  tempt  the  dainty  palate.  A  thick  thatched  roof,  all  green  with  moss 
and  lichens  and  masses  of  the  yellow  flowering  stonecrop,  with  far  projecting  eaves, 
whence  hung  in  clusters  the  clay-built  cradles  of  the  summer-loving  martlet,  covered 
the  whole  of  this  hospitable  mansion — which  was  built  of  vast  beams  of  jet-black  oak, 
curiously  interlaced  one  with  another,  the  interstices  being  filled  up  with  neatly  white- 
washed plaster — and  afforded  a  pleasant  haunt  to  a  score  or  two  of  plump-necked  pi- 
geons, strutting  to  and  fro  from  morning  till  night  on  the  ridge-pole,  filling  the  whole  air 
with  their  hoarse  love-making,  or  wheeling  in  short  flights  about  their  happy  home. 

In  front  of  this  truly  rustic  inn  the  road  expanded  into  a  little  bay  or  circle,  with  a 
small  meadow,  of  three  or  four  acres  at  the  utmost,  fenced  all  around  by  deep  planta- 
tions, facing  the  windows — while  at  the  back  the  building  actually  abutted  on  the  park 
wall,  and  was  securely  sheltered  by  the  tall  ranks  of  its  immemorial  elm-trees.  Along  the 
palings  of  the  meadow,  moss-grown,  and  old,  and  weather-beaten  like  all  about  them, 
ran  a  long  horse-trough,  fed  constantly  and  full  from  a  rude  aqueduct  of  hollow  trunks 
by  a  bright  and  chrystal  rill ;  which,  keeping  it  still  brimming  over  in  the  hottest  seasons, 
danced  out  with  a  fresh  gurgling  sound  at  the  lower  end  in  a  mimic  waterfall,  and  was 
soon  lost  to  sight  among  the  rich  tall  herbage  which  it  supplied  with  its  perennial  moist- 
ure. But  the  chief  boast  and  ornament  of  the  Stag's  Head  was  the  enormous  aged  oak 
— so  aged  that,  as  wise  men  said,  it  was  recorded  for  a  bound-mark  in  the  pages  of  the 
Domesday  book — which  stood  exactly  in  the  middle  of  the  little  circle,  its  gnarled  gray 
arms  completely  sheltering  the  space  below,  and  its  leaves  rustling  on  the  one  extremity 
against  the  diamond-shaped  panes  of  the  chamber  windows,  and  on  the  other  covering 
the  horse-trough  with  their  cool  cave-like  umbrage. 

Around  the  trunk  of  this  vegetable  giant  was  built  a  range  of  comfortable  seats,  with 
a  high  back,  and  arms  dividing  it,  as  it  were,  into  separate  compartments — like  the 
boxes  of  a  modern  coffee-house — all  framed  of  tortuous  roots,  and  unbarked  branches, 
and  each  compartment  having  a  round  table  in  the  middle  for  the  benefit  of  the  rustic 
banqueters,  who  here  were  wont  to  solace  themselves  every  evening  after  the  heat  and 
burthen  of  the  day's  toils  were  over.  It  must  not  be  omitted,  that  on  a  low  artificial 
mound  in  the  meadow  there  stood  a  lofty  maypole,  round  which  in  those  blithe  days, 
before  the  sullen  morose  Puritans  had  clogged  fair  England  with  the  curse  of  their  black 
creed — before  the  happy  peasantry  were  changed  by  the  loud  lies  of  artful  demagogues 
into  a  horde  of  bitter  discontented  politicians — the  young  folks  of  the  parish  would  meet 
on  many  a  spring  or  summer  evening,  with  merriment  and  music,  to  twine  their  may. 
wreaths  from  the  abundant  wild  flowers,  and  at  the  sound  of  pipe  and  tabor  present  to 
the  great  Architect  of  nature,  an  offering  most  grateful  to  divine  beneficence — the  offer- 
ing  of  innocent,  rejoicing,  grateful  hearts. 

Alas !  where  are  they  now,  those  festive  meetings  ?  where  is  the  frolic  mirth the 

innocence  so  cheaply  pleased  with  trifles — the  love  of  music,  the  affection — most  natu. 


18  MARMADtTKEWYVIL; 

ral  affection,  and  most  indicative  of  pure  and  graceful  spirits — for  the  sweet  perfumes 
of  the  dewy  flowers  the  dance  upon  the  greensward  under  the  mellow  eye  of  evening 
— the  cheerful  congregation  in  the  old  village  church  on  every  Sunday  morn,  including 
every  inmate  of  the  village,  from  the  blind  frail  octogenarian  to  the  wee  toddling  prattler 
that  sat  grave  eyed  and  hushed  in  decent  awe  by  its  young  comely  mother  ?  Where  is 
the  veneration  for  old  age  'r  the  grateful  reverence  to  the  kind  superiors  ;  the  love  for 
the  frank,  free  spoken,  learned  churchman,  who  preached  not  one  iota  the  less  wisely, 
nor  prayed  one  tittle  the  less  fervently,  that  he  could  chat  with  the  old  gossips  by  the 
fireside,  and  jest  with  the  young  lasses  on  the  green,  and  wing  an  arrow  to  the  clout 
with  the  featest  yeoman  in  the  ring  ?  Where  are  they  now,  those  once  characteristics 
of  the  people  of  the  once  merry  England  ?  Gone,  one  and  all — gone  to  return  no  more  ! 
Surrendered — bartered — contemptuously  cast  aside  for  what  ?  for  a  dream  !  a  vain, 
fitful,  feverish  dream — a  dream  of  liberty  !  of  freedom  !  free  trade,  free  institutions,  free 
religion  !  a  dream,  which  fills  the  prisons  and  the  pothouses  of  that  once  happy  realm 
with  desperate  criminals,  with  brawling  vicious  plotters  !  a  dream,  which  has  converted 
pure  green  fields  into  huge  prisons  of  red  brick,  dungeons  of  toiling  artizans,  reeking 
with  blasphemy,  sedition,  and  licentiousness ;  day  schools  of  all  impiety,  rife  with  the 
agonies  of  tortured  infancy — the  woes  of  premature  old  age  !  a  dream  which  has  torn — 
literally  torn,  the  church  asunder,  and  swelled  with  worshippers  the  shrine  of  every 
loathsome  creed,  of  every  mad  fanaticism,  hard  by  the  half-deserted  doors  of  God's  time, 
honored  temples. 

Not  then,  however,  had  these  things  come  to  pass,  although  the  events  were  even 
then  in  progress  which  sowed  the  seeds  of  what  should  be  thereafter;  and  though 
throughout  the  land,  full  many  a  furious  fanatic  had  fulminated  the  dread  wrath  to  come 
over  the  guilty  dancers — licentious  worshippers  of  Baal,  circling  like  Moabitish  women 
with  flutes  and  timbrels  round  the  high  places  of  false  gods — the  maypoles  were  no  t 
yet  entirely  abandoned ;  and  smiles  were  sometimes  seen  upon  the  faces,  and  songs 
heard  from  the  lips  of  youths  and  maidens.  Drunkenness  was  not  then  the  only  author- 
ized amusement ;  the  only  licensed  relaxation  of  the  free  British  peasant. 

At  a  very  early  hour  of  the  morning  following  the  events  narrated  heretofore — almost 
indeed  as  soon  as  the  sun  was  up — the  Stag's  Head  saw  collected  under  the  old  oak 
tree  a  group  of  people,  some  two  or  three  of  whom  were  waiting,  as  it  would  seem,  for 
the  first  meal  of  their  day  ;  while  the  rest  were  for  the  most  part  countrymen,  pausing  a 
moment  on  their  way  a-field,  to  take  their  morning  draught  of  ale,  and  hear  the  gossip  of 
the  times ;  or  servants  of  the  inn  bustling  about  their  hospitable  duties. 

The  country  people  soon  passed  onward,  and  the  company,  when  they  were  gone, 
appeared  to  consist  of  four  persons.  One  was  an  old  gray-headed  man,  spare-made, 
and  tall  and  bony ;  but  hale,  fresh-colored,  comely,  and  retaining  still  many  signs  of 
strength  which  in  his  younger  days  must  have  been  more  than  usually  great.  He  was 
dressed  in  a  much  worn  long  coat  of  forest  green,  with  buckskin  breeches,  soiled  and 
glazed  at  the  knees,  and  long  calf  gaiters.  A  rabbit,  embroidered  in  tarnished  silver  on 
the  sleeve  of  his  coat,  and  a  brace  of  rough  wire-haired  terriers,  long-backed  and  short- 
legged — one  of  which  was  sleeping  at  his  feet,  while  the  other  was  making  demonstra- 
tions most  decidedly  hostile  against  a  comfortable-looking  tabby  cat  inside  the  kitchen 
window — seemed  to  designate  his  profession  as  that  of  warrener  to  some  neighboring 
gentleman  ;  and  this  was  confirmed  more  fully  by  the  appearance  of  an  old  gray  pony 
dozing  in  the  shade,  to  whose  wooden  pack-saddle  were  attached  a  bundle  of  nets,  a 
spade,  a  bag  which  from  its  constant  and  eccentric  agitations  seemed  to  contain  a  ferret, 
and  a  dozen  or  more  of  fine  wild  rabbits  hanging  by  their  heels  across  his  withers,  with 
the  blood  dripping — so  freshly  had  they  been  killed — from  their  long  silvery  ears. 

The  second  of  the  group?  who  sat  by  the  old  warrener,  talking  to  him  and  laughing 
with  a  familiarity  which  showed  as  if  they  had  been  old  acquaintances,  was  a  man  some- 
thing past  the  middle  age,  dressed  like  an  ordinary  yeoman,  though  perhaps  something 
better,  in  a  suit  of  dark-colored  fustian  with  a  high  broad-brimmed  hat.  His  face,  with- 
out being  actually  good,  was  marked  and  striking ;  there  was  a  keen  quick  twinkle  of 


Oft,     THE     MATDJS     REVENGE.  10 

intelligence  in  his  sharp  black  eyes,  and  an  expression  of  sly  cunning  humor  about  the 
same  feature,  with  a  queer,  half  pleasant,  half  cynical  smile  constantly  fluttering  around 
his  mouth.  His  complexion  was  much  tanned  and  sunburnt,  as  were  his  hands  likewise; 
on  one  of  which,  the  right,  there  was  a  long  seamed  scar,  as  of  a  broadsword  cut,  which 
having  slightly  grazed  his  fore  and  middle  ringers  had  completely  severed  the  two  others 
from  the  knuckles,  and  terminated  only  at  the  wrist.  His  garments  and  his  shoes  were 
all  powdered  over  with  thick  dust,  as  if  he  had  travelled  many  miles ;  but  there  was 
nothing  about  him  to  indicate  his  business — unless  it  were  a  peddler's  pack,  an  ell  wand 
of  stout  OUK  rendered  available  as  a  weapon  by  a  steel  spear-head  screwed  into  one  end, 
and  a  flat  wooden  box  with  a  broad  belt  of  leather;  all  of  which  lay  on  the  table  of  the 
box  next  to  that  in  which  he  and  the  warrener  were  sitting,  and  which  might,  or  might 
not,  have  been  his  property.  The  third,  and  only  remaining  occupant  of  the  seat 
beneath  the  tree,  was  an  athletic  bronzed  young  fellow,  with  somewhat  of  a  dare-devil 
expression  in  his  bright  hazel  eye,  but  a  frank,  cheerful,  and  good-humored  smile  ;  ciad 
as  a  forester  or  game-keeper,  with  a  bucktail  in  the  silver  band  of  his  black  velvet  cap, 
and  a  badge  on  the  sleeve  of  his  green  jerkin.  A  short  rifle-gun  or  musketoon  stood 
in  the  corner  of  the  settle  at  his  elbow,  with  its  appurtenances  of  powder-horn  and  bullet- 
pouch  lying  upon  the  seat  beside  it ;  a  long  broad  two-edged  knife,  with  a  handsome 
buckhorn  handle,  thrust  into  his  belt  at  left  side,  completed  his  equipment. 

There  was  yet  a  fourth  person  present,  but  he  was  not  one  of  that  party,  nor  was  he 
one  who  had  much  part  at  all  in  the  companionship  of  men  ;  he  sat  a  little  way  aloof 
from  the  rest  in  a  low  wicker  chair,  placed  where  the  morning  sun  fell  full  upon  it;  but 
he  saw  not,  or  at  least  noticed  not,  the  glorious  sunlight  with  the  innumerable  living 
atoms  wheeling  and  circling  in  its  golden  radiance  ;  he  only  felt  its  warmth,  and  dozed, 
scarce  conscious  of  the  comfort  it  poured  down  upon  him — a  large,  well-formed  and 
powerful  lad  of  seventeen  years  or  better,  his  muscular  and  shapely  limbs  giving  the 
promise  of  vast  strength  to  be  developed  ere  he  should  have  attained  to  the  full  years  of 
manhood.  One  glance,  however,  at  his  features  told  in  an  instant  his  whole  melancholy 
tale ;  the  low  receding  brow  ;  the  beadlike  and  unmeaning  eye ;  the  prominent  mouth, 
thick-lipped,  with  teeth  as  white  and  strong  as  those  of  a  wild  beast,  which  had  scarred 
all  the  lips  around  in  the  dread  seizure  of  his  convulsive  paroxysms !  He  was  an  idiot 
of  the  worst  and  lowest  grade,  scarcely  endowed  with  speech,  so  inarticulate  were  the 
sounds  which  alone  his  defective  organs  could  produce;  with  instincts  scarcely  equal  to 
those  of  the  inferior  brutes,  and  amounting  to  little  more  than  a  sense  and  memory  of 
wrongs  or  kindnesses,  with  an  occasional  gleam  of  desperate  animal  ferocity,  and  now 
and  then,  at  rare — most  rare  and  distant  intervals — a  burst  of  tender  and  affectionate 
feeling,  blended  as  it  were  with  a  partial  revelation  of  deeper  and  more  human  thoughts 
within,  than  anything  in  his  external  bearing  could  be  held  to  indicate.  During  these 
partially  lucid  intervals,  it  was  remarkable,  moreover,  that  all  his  powers  seemed  to  ex- 
pand proportionably  ;  eye,  tongue,  expression,  all  aiding  the  development  of  thoughts 
which,  if  they  were  at  work  continually  in  the  depths  of  his  shrouded  mind,  left  at  the 
least  no  token  of  their  workings  upon  the  stagnant  surface.  A  large  gaunt  mastiff  bitch, 
now  nearly  toothless  and  grizzled  over  all  her  face,  slept  close  beside  his  feet,  keeping 
nevertheless  as  it  would  seem  a  strict  guard  over  her  witless  master,  for  ever — though  she 
seemed  to  sleep — if  he  but  moved  a  limb,  or  drew  a  heavier  breath  than  common,  she 
would  unclose  one  eye,  and  watch  him  for  a  moment  with  an  expression  almost  super- 
human, and  with  a  quick  nervous  quiver  of  her  thin  pendulous  ears,  till,  as  she  saw 
him  settle  down  again  into  his  soulless  musings,  she  too  would  relapse  into  her  daylong 
slumbers. 

"Holloa!  my  pretty  Cicely— what  ails  thee,  lass,  this  morning?"  cried  the  young 
forester,  as  the  last  of  the  peasants  moved  off — "  canst  give  us  nought  to  break  our  fasts 
withal  ?  Here's  old  John  Brent's  been  out  since  four  of  the  clock,  and  Master  Bartram 
has  walked  all  the  way  from  Barrington — and  that's  ten  miles — since  daybreak,  and 
here  am  I,  Frank  Norman,  not  like  to  walk  a  mile — though  I've  got  all  my  rounds 
before  me,  and  that's  twenty  good — till  I've  got  cake  and  ale ! " 


20  WARM  A  DUKE     WYVILJ 

"  Coming !  oh !  coming,  Master  Frank,"  cried  the  smart  country  lass,  running  across 
the  green,  with  her  short  petticoats  displaying  her  clean  ancle  and  neat  foot  as  they 
fluttered  in  the  wind,  and  the  bright  ribbons  in  her  cap  paling  beside  the  blush  of  her 
soft  peach-like  cheek — "you  mustn't  flurry  one  so — there,  you've  just  been  and  taken 
all  my  breath  away — there !  there's  your  ale — double  ale,  too,  six  quarts  of  it,  stirred 
with  a  sprig  of  rosemary,  and  a  nice  roasted  crab  in  it — and  there's  your  glasses — .and 
here's  hot  cakes  and  sweet  fresh  butter — and  here  comes  Jenny  with  the  rasher  and  the 
eggs,  and  I'll  away  to  fetch  the  trenchers.  Marry !  will  that  do  for  you.  Frank  ? '' 
"  So  nicely,  Ciss,  that  I'll  e'en  pay  thee  with  a  kiss  when  thou  hast  brought  them." 
"  I  won't  go  after  them  then,  saucebox.  Welsh  Jenny  here  may  fetch  them  you,  an  J 
serve  your  table,  too !  Marry  come  up  !  green  jackets  and  bucktails  must  needs  be 
scarcer  sights  than  they  be  now  in  these  parts,  when  pretty  girls  like  me  buy  kisses 
of  such  chaps  as  thee  for  service." 

And  tossing  her  pretty  little  head  coquettishly,  she  tripped  ofF  into  the  porch,  while 
with  a  loud  and  cheery  laugh  John  Brent  rallied  his  young  comrade. 

"  Hey  !  Norman,  lad,  she  hit  thee  as  cjean  as  ever  thou  struck'st  hart  of  grease — " 
"  With  headless  shaft  at  roving  distance  ! "  the  young  man  interrupted  him,  for  he 
had  caught  a  sly  glance,  and  a  wicked  smile,  cast  over  her  shoulder  as  she  disappeared, 
which  contradicted  quite  the  import  of  her  words — "  but  come,  let's  try  the  ale  !  " 

For  some  minutes'  space  after  this,  they  were  so  well  employed  over  the  eggs  and 
bacon  that  few  words  passed  between  them.  While  they  were  thus  engaged,  however, 
a  fifth  personage  was  added  to  their  number.  It  was  no  other  than  John  Sherlock,  the 
stout  yeoman  whom  the  Puritans  had  stopped  the  preceding  night,  upon  the  heronry 
bridge,  while  keeping  watch  over  the  inmates  of  the  Hall.  He  was  a  right  good  speci- 
men of  a  fine  blunt  English  farmer  of  the  olden  time,  full  six  feet  high,  and  with  a 
breadth  of  shoulder  and  a  volume  of  muscle  amply  proportionate  to  his  inches,  clad  in 
his  snugly-fitting  doublet  of  gray  broadcloth,  buff  breeches  and  blue  woollen  hose,  with 
heavy  silver  buckles  in  his  strong  ancle  shoes,  and  a  clasp  of  the  same  metal  to  the  band 
of  his  slouched  beaver  hat. 

He  came  upon  them  suddenly — -so  much  so,  that  although  on  horseback,  the  others 
neither  heard  nor  saw  him  till  he  was  close  beside  them  ;  for  he  came  down  the  road 
behind  them  from  the  westward,  as  they  sat  looking  down  it  toward  the  park  gates,  so 
that  the  body  of  the  oak  tree  was  interposed  between  the  new-comer  and  the  party; 
and  it  was  not,  therefore,  till  he  had  well  nigh  passed,  that  he  perceived  them.  When 
he  did  so,  however,  the  recognition  was  simultaneous. 

" Ho!  is  it  thou,  John  Sherlock?     Best  stop  and  take  a  horn." 
"What,  Norman,  lad,  how  be  you?  and  how  be  you,  John  Brent?     Good  morrow, 
Master  Bartram." 

"Come,  'light  down,  John,  'light  down — wilt  not?"  said  the  forester — "but  what's 
i'  the  wind  now?"  he  continued,  in  accents  that  denoted  no  small  wonder,  as  he  looked 
more  steadily  at  the  good  yeoman.  "Where,  i'  the  fiend's  name,  didst  get  that  beast 
thou  straddlest  so  gallantly?" 

And  well  indeed  might  he  ask  and  admire — for  in  sooth  it  was  no  sober  cart-pad  that 
bore  the  jolly  farmer,  nor  yet  was  it  his  own  high-bred  and  powerful  hunter — for  he  was 
well  to  do  in  the  world,  and  turned  out  now  and  then  with  the  earl's  stag-hounds,  and 
followed  them  as  close  as  squire  or  knight  or  baron — but  a  tall,  jet-black  barb  of  Don- 
gola,  clean-limbed,  with  a  coat  br'ght  and  soft  as  st^in,  and  a  broad,  flashing  eye,  and  a 
full  nostril.  The  head-stall  of  his  bridle  was  all  adorned  and  studded,  as  were  the  bits, 
the  poitrel,  and  the  crupper,  with  knobs  and  bosses  of  chased  gold ;  the  housings  and 
the  padding  of  his  demipique  were  of  rich  velvet,  laid  down  with  gold  embroideries 
of  full  three  inches  depth,  while  to  match  the  color  of  the  saddle-cloth,  his  flowing 
mane  was  gathered  up  and  plaited  with  blue  ribbons. 

"By  George,  but  that's  a  baron's  charger,  at  the  least  on't,"  exclaimed  old  Brent. 
"  'Light  down,  'light  thee  down,  Master  Sherlock,  and  tell  us  all  about  it." 

"Nay!  I've  got  nought  to  tell,"  returned  the  fanner,  alighting,  however,  as  he  was 


OH,     THE     MAID'S     REVENGE.  21 

requested,  and  giving  the  rein  to  an  old  half-palsied  hostler,  who  had  tottered  out  at  the 
sound  of  the  horse  tramp.  "  Nay !  I've  got  nought  to  tell  you  much.  I  found  t'nag 
down  i'  the  heronry  wood,  tied  to  a  young  ash  sapling.  I  was  a  passing  by  like,  when 
I  heard  him  nickering  and  neighing  a  mile  off  or  better — and  there  he'd  been  all  night 
for  certain,  for  t'dew  was  thick  on  t'saddle,  and  all  quite  white  on  his  long  mane  and 
tail.  I  took  him  up  to  my  own  stable,  and  made  the  lads  sort  him  down.  Some  gen- 
tleman on  the  king's  side  has  owned  him,  that  got  off  from  Worcester  fight,  I  reckon." 

"Ay,  ay  1"  responded  all  the  listeners — "I  warrant  me." 

But  Jonn  Brent  went  on  speaking — "  Ay !  ay !  He's  owned  him,  I'll  be  bail,  as  they 
red-coated  roundheads  was  a  looking  arter,  down  at  the  Hall  last  night." 

"  What's  that — what's  that  ?  Tell  us,  John  Brent — tell  us  man !  what  i'  the  fiend's 
name  are  you  thinking  on,  to  tell  us  nought  about  it  before  this  ?"  cried  the  young 
forester,  starting  to  his  feet  and  snatching  up  his  musketoon.  "  Did  they  trouble 
Master  Selby — did  they  dare  harm  fair  Mistress  Alice  ?" 

"  No,  no !  no  wrong,  Frank  Norman ;  thou  needst  not  be  so  hot  upon't,  lad,"  an- 
swered the  old  warrener.  "  They  did  scare  Mistress  Alice  woundily,  but  no  harm 
done.  You  see  they'd  chased  some  gentleman  clear  down  from  Worcester  field,  and 
fired  at  him  from  the  top  of  Longmire  hill,  and  lost  all  track  of  him,  as  it  was  growing 
dark,  down  in  the  bottom  by  the  bridge ;  and  so  they  came  and  searched  the  old  Hall 
from  the  garret  down — but,  Lord !  he  wasn't  there — not  he  !  Old  Master'd  been  in's 
study,  Jeremy  says,  all  day,  and  Mistress  Alice  came  in  from  the  park,  about  an  hour 
or  so  afore  the  supper,  and  no  one  with  her,  any  how — for  Jeremy  he  let  her  in  at  the 
water-gate,  and  Charles  and  Launcelot  were  with  him ;  and  they  say  nobody  came 
with  her — no  Christian,  anyways,  except  the  old  Talbot — and  so  they  went  their  ways, 
arter  they'd  got  done  searching." 

"  The  devil's  luck  go  with  them,"  added  young  Norman,  playing  with  the  trigger 
of  his  gun  lock ;  "  there'll  be  no  peace  in  England  any  more  till  the  rogue-roundheads 
are  put  down,  and  our  good  king  enjoys  his  own  again ! " 

"  Ay,  ay !  that's  right,"  chimed  in  the  peddler  Bartram.  "  Heaven  send  the  rogues 
well  down !  .  A  yard  or  two  of  Holland's  linen,  and  a  commodity  of  Scottish  serge- 
cloth,  and  old  calf-leather,  is  all  the  merchandise  they  need.  Their  very  wenches 
wont  ware  a  tester  on  a  top-knot.  Heaven  send  them  down,  and  we'll  have  jolly 
times  again.  But  now  nought's  doing — and  for  fine  Flanders'  lace,  and  Genoa  velvets, 
and  Cypress  lawns,  and  soft  French  taffetas,  I'm  fain  to  sell  old  sermons  and  stale 
psalm  tunes  and  such  rubbish !  But  that  has  been  a  noble's  horse,  I  warrant  him — 
why,  that's  all  solid  gold  upon  the  trappings ;  and  that  gold  lace  is  worth  ten  crowns 
the  Flemish  ell,  and  all  that  velvet's  prime  Genoa.  He's  a  lord's  horse,  at  least !  What 
do  you  mean  to  make  with  him,  hey,  Master  Sherlock?" 

"  Why,  you  see,  lads,"  said  Sherlock,  "  the  soldiers  stopped  me  on  the  bridge  last 
night,  of  this  same  party  that  searched  Woolverton — they  watched  about  the  house  till 
it  was  nigh-hand  two  o'clock,  and  all  the  lights  was  out — and  they  asked  me  a  sight 
of  questions — but  nothing  seemed  a-stirring — and  they  couldn't  scent  out  anything — 
and  so  they  went  off  to  their  quarters.  But  I  had  heard  them  talk,  you  see,  and 
guessed,  by  what  they  told,  that  he  had  took  to  the  woods ;  and  I  went  off  betimes 
this  morning  to  see  if  I  could  find  the  gentleman,  and  show  him  where  to  hide  away. 
By  what  they  talked,  he'd  been  a  prime  one !  — 'fought  to  the  very  last  by  the  king's 
side  at  Worcester,  and  when  their  picquets  came  upon  him  in  a  barnyard,  somewhere 
nigh-hand  the  field  where  he  had  hid  himself  the  first  night,  he  shot  two  of  them  with 
his  pistols — they're  discharged  sure  enough" — and  as  he  spoke  he  drew  two  large 
gold-mounted  pistols  from  the  holsters,  with  the  hammers  down  and  the  pans  black 
with  smoke — "  and  charged  clean  through  their  troop,  cutting  down  one,  and  wounding 
two  more  badly !  and  so  I  found  his  horse,  but  couldn't  hit  upon  no  track  of  him  at  all 
—and  then  I  thought  I'd  best  go  down  to  the  Hall,  and  talk  with  Master  Selby,  and 
he'd  be  telling  me  what  I  should  do  with  him." 

"That's  right,  John;  that's  right,"  said  the  warrener.    "I'm  going  home  myself 


22  MAfcMADlTKE     WYVIL; 

now  with  these  rabbits — Andrew,  cook,  wants  them  for  a  pie,  I  reckon.  Bartram, 
you'd  best  step  up,  man,  with  your  packs — young  mistress  will  buy,  like  enow  " 

"  Well,  I  don't  know  but  what  I  had,"  returned  the  peddler,  shouldering,  as  he  spoke, 
his  box  and  bales,  and  grasping  his  ell-wand ;  "  but  we  must  pay  the  reckoning  first." 

"No,  no!  that's  mine,"  said  Norman;  "the  score's  mine,  this  time  anyhow  ;  when 
we  next  meet,  you'll  stand  the  treat  for  us,  Bartram.  I'll  in  and  pay  it  up  now  ;  and 
then  I've  got  to  tramp  clean  round  by  Reardon  forest,  and  Low  Moor,  and  down  by 
the  Hagard-mere  to  Hazel-woods  and  Burford  old-lane-end,  and  so  home  by  the  Ring- 
woods  and  the  Goshawk  dingle.  I  would  I  might  fall  in  with  the  young  cavalier. 
Well,  good  den,  boys ;"  and,  throwing  his  pouch  and  horn  across  his  shoulders,  he 
caught  up  his  gun  and  was  turning  to  the  house,  when  the  arrival  of  a  mounted  party, 
making  itself  heard  a  minute  at  least  before  it  came  into  sight,  by  its  clang  and 
clatter,  arrested  all  their  plans  in  a  moment. 


CHAPTER    V. 

THE  new-comers,  as  it  appeared  in  a  few  moments,  were  no  less  than  a  patrolling 
party  of  the  Ironsides,  consisting  of  eight  privates  with  their  lancepesade  or  corporal, 
and  a  subaltern  officer — a  lieutenant,  or  cornet  more  probably — commanding  them. 
Like  all  the  splendid  corps  of  which  these  soldiers  formed  a  part,  they  were  picked 
men,  and  nothing  could  be  more  soldier-like  or  perfect  in  its  way  than  their  whole 
bearing  and  appointment.  There  was  nothing  superfluous ;  nothing  tawdry  or  tinselly ; 
nothing  defective,  much  less  mean,  about  them.  The  strong  high-bred  black  horses 
which  they  rode  were  accurately  groomed  and  in  superb  condition,  while  all  their 
furniture  of  plain  black  leather,  mounted  with  polished  steel,  showed  the  severe  and 
rigorous  discipline  of  the  regiment  by  its  exact  unsullied  brightness. 

The  men  were  uniformly  clad  in  scarlet  doublets,  with  low  pot-helmets  of  brightly 
burnished  steel — the  most  efficient  and  least  cumbrous  head-piece,  by  the  way,  that 
has  been  yet  invented — and  musket-proof  cuirasses ;  the  taslets  on  their  thighs  being 
of  lighter  substance,  though  of  the  same  clear  and  highly-tempered  material.  Heavy 
jack-boots  with  glittering  spurs,  buff  breeches  and  stout  leather  gauntlets  extending 
almost  to  the  elbow,  completed  their  uniform ;  while  for  offensive  arms  each  soldier 
carried  a  long,  straight,  two-edged  broadsword,  a  brace  of  pistols  at  his  holsters  nearly 
two  feet  in  length,  and  a  short,  heavy  musketoon  slung  over  his  left  shoulder,  and 
crossed  by  the  bandoleers  containing  his  ammunition.  There  was  not  a  particle  of 
embroidery  or  lace  upon  the  doublets  of  the  men,  nor  any  distinctive  mark  in  the 
uniform  of  the  lancepesade  or  of  the  cornet- — except  that  the  former  had  a  short  scarlet 
tuft,  and  the  latter  a  red  feather,  in  his  morion.  They  came  up  at  a  brisk  hand-gallop 
in  double  file,  the  non-commissioned  officer  leading  them,  and  the  subaltern  in  the 
rear;  but  as  they  entered  the  little  green  before  the  door  of  the  Stag's  Head,  the  cornet 
set  spurs  to  his  horse,  and  coming  up  to  the  head  of  the  column  wheeled  them  into  a 
single  line,  closing  in  on  both  sides  the  tree,  and  surrounding  the  little  group  between 
the  inn  door  and  the  semicircle  of  his  troopers. 

"  Halt,  ho !"  he  shouted ;  "  and  you,  sirs,  stand  all,  and  show  your  names  and  business, 
if  ye  be  honest  men.  Ha !"  he  continued  in  a  harsher  and  more  insolent  tone,  as  his 
eye  fell  upon  Sherlock  and  the  noble  charger,  which  he  had  but  that  moment  remounted, 
"  Ha !  what  sert  of  knave  have  we  here  ?  what  do  you  with  this  warhorse  ?  Verily  I 
do  believe,  Elisha  Burnet,  the  dog  is  leading  him  out  even  now  to  mount  that  same 
malignant,  who  'scaped  so  strangely  from  us  yester  even.  Doubtless  he  is  even  now 
within.  Unsling  your  firelocks — prime,  load,  and  make  ready !  And  now,  thou  most 
base  knave  and  dog,"  he  went  on  addressing  Sherlock,  when  his  orders  had  been  com. 
plied  with  by  the  party  he  commanded,  "  why  dost  thou  not  speak  out  ?" 


OB,     THE     MAID'S     REVENGE.  23 

"  I've  had  no  chance  to  speak,"  responded  Sherlock  doggedly  enough,  for  he  was  not 
well  pleased  by  the  tone  or  manner  of  his  questioner :  "  I've  had  no  chance  to  speak, 
unless  I  interrupted  you  ;  and  in  the  next  place,  for  that  matter,  Jve  yet  to  learn  what 
you  would  have  me  tell  you." 

"  Who  are  you,  dog,  that  bandy  words  with  me  ?" 

"  No  dog,  sir,"  answered  the  other,  "  but  an  independent  English  yeoman — a  peace- 
ful and  a  loyal  subject,  troubling  no  man,  and  living  on  mine  own  land,  which  lies  in 
this  same  parish — my  name  is  John  Sherlock — pretty  well  known  in  these  parts,  ay  ! 
and  in  Worcester  too  !" 

"  Ha !  thou  art  he,  I  did  speak  with  last  night  upon  the  bridge  ?  Verily,  John,  verily, 
I  misdoubt  thee  very  grievously — my  mind  misgives  me,  that  thou  didst  lie  unto  us  this 
past  night,  and  that  thou  art  in  league  with  this  malignant — speak  out,  where  is  the 
traitor — see  that  thou  answer  truly,  else  as  my  soul  liveth  in  the  fear  of  the  Lord  always, 
so  surely  shalt  thou  die  the  death." 

"  Of  the  owner  of  the  horse,"  answered  the  honest  yeoman,  whose  face  had  flushed 
exceedingly  red  at  the  imputation  of  the  lie,  "  I  know  no  more  than  thou  dost — nor  so 
much  as  thou  dost  neither — for  thou  hast  seen  him,  which  I  never  have,  I  trow.  The 
horse  I  found  tied  to  a  ground  ash  in  what  we  call  the  heronry  wood,  within  a  gunshot 
of  the  bridge  where  you  were  on  the  watch  last  night." 

"  Oh !  thou  didst-  didst  thou — and  what  makest  thou  with  him  here,  on  this  by-lane  ? 
mark  his  words,  corporal — whither  wert  taking  him  ?" 

"  To  Master  Selby's  at  the  Hall— to  ask  him  what  I  had  best  to  do  with  him,"  was 
the  immediate  answer;  "  and  I  am  on  this  lane,  because  it  happens  to  be  the  nighest 
road  to  the  Hall  gates." 

"And  why  to  Master  Selby's,  knave  ?  see  that  that  thou  palter  not." 

"  Because  he  is  my  landlord,  and  my  right  good  friend,  and  kind  master — and  the 
wisest  man  too,  and  the  best  scholar,  for  miles  round.  Why,  all  the  plain  folks  here- 
away go  for  good  counsel  to  Master  Selby,  when  they  need  it." 

"A  very  palpable  lie  !"  replied  the  Puritan ;  "  but  now  thou  didst  tell  me  that  thou 
didst  dwell  on  thine  own  land — and  now  thou  dost  avouch  this  dreaming  dotard  to  be 
thy  landlord  and  thy  master.  Down  from  the  charger,  dog !  down  with  thee  in  quick 
time  !  pitch  him  off  if  he  loiter,  lanccpesade." 

"  There'd  go  two  words  or  more  to  that  same  bargain,"  answered  John,  dismounting 
slowly,  "  if  you  were  alone,  my  gay  lad  !  For  'spite  your  toasting-fork  and  pop-guns, 
I'd  find  you  work  with  a  stout  arm  and  a  good  crab-tree  staff,  and  make  your  tin  pot 
there  ring,  that  it  should  fancy  itself  i'  the  tinkler's  hand  again.  A  man  can't  own  one 
farm,  I  trow,  and  rent  another  of  his  landlord — hey,  master  officer.  I'd  not  get  down 
now  neither,  but  that  the  nag  is  none  of  mine,  nor  I  don't  want  him  !" 

"  Ha !  ha !  well  said,  John  Sherlock — well  said — mine  old  friend  !  And  if  thou 
need'st  a  backer,  count  upon  me  for  one  !"  exclaimed  Frank  Norman  the  forester,  with 
a  hearty  laugh,  who  had  listened  with  much  disgust  to  the  insolence  of  the  Puritan 
soldier. 

"  Ha  !  lancepesade ;  link  bridles,  and  dismount  your  men — and  seize  me  these 
malignants."  A  momentary  bustle  followed,  during  which  Norman  coolly  loosened  his 
whittle  in  its  sheath,  and  very  deliberately  cocking  his  musketoon,  levelled  it  full  a 
the  head  of  the  speaker. 

"  The  first  man  of  you,"  he  said,  speaking  through  his  set  neeth  with  extreme  firm 
ness,  "  that  stirs  one  step  to  lay  a  hand  on  me-  an  ounce  ball's  in  your  leader's  brain 
pan." 

"  Who  art  thou,  that  darest  thus  resist  'awful  superiors  ?"  asked  the  cornet,  not — to 
do  him  him  justice — apparently  alarmed  by  the  threat,  which  the  other  stood  evidently 
prepared  to  execute. 

"  Frank  Norman,"  was  the  ready  answer;  "head-forester,  and  wood-ranger,  to  the 
Lord  Ferdinando  Fairfax,  on  his  estate  and  manor  here  of  Oaklands — so  put  that  in. 
your  pipe  and  smoke  it,  master  cornet,  after  you  have  laid  the  strong  hand  on  the  lord- 
general's  servitor !" 


24  MAKMADUKE     WYVILJ 

'  *  Hold  vour  hands,  lancepesade,"  cried  he,  turning  very  pale  at  the  announcement, 
"  this  js  an  error  all.  He  is  an  honest  fellow,  doubtless,  though  somewhat  malapert. 
Hold  your  hands  all !  Is  the  Loid  Fairfax  at  the  manor  now — how  called  you  it — on 
jus  lands  in  Yorkshire  ?" 

"  He  is  at  Oaklands,"  answered  the  forester,  lowering  his  rifle  as  he  saw  that  no  vio- 
lence would  now  be  offered  to  him ;  "  he  came  from  the  north  three  weeks  since,  if  it 
concerns  you  anything  to  know." 

"  Well,  well !  good  fellow,  be  not,  I  prithee,  sullen  —no  evil  has  been  done,  nor  any 
meant,  I  trow.  Thou  mayest  go  hence,  I  have  no  call  with  thee  " 

"  But  I  have  a  call  here,"  muttered  Frank,  "  and  so  I'll  even  tarry." 

"Well,  be  it  so  then.  Lancepesade,  look  to  that  fellow  Sherlock,  tha,,  he  escape 
not — guard  him,  but  harm  him  not — while  I  look  to  these  others."  Ana  as  he  rinishea 
speaking  he  leaped  down  from  his  horse,  and  strode  up  to  the  old  warrener 

"  Now,  sir,  whose  knave  art  thou — and  what  dost  thou  here  ?" 

"  No  one's  knave,"  answered  old  Brent,  "  but  Squire  Mark  Selby's  warrener,  for 
these  last  score  of  years." 

"  Ha !  and  thou — marry,  thou  art  a  pestilent-looking  thief— a  spy  of  the  malignants, 
I'll  be  sworn ;"  addressing  the  peddler,  on  whose  full  bags  the  Ironsides  had  been  for 
some  time  casting  greedy  glances. 

"  Not  so,  most  noble  sir,"  replied  that  worthy — "  not  so,  most  valiant  captain,"  in  a 
strange  sanctimonious  snuffle  widely  at  variance  with  his  quick  keen  eye  and  somewhat 
roving  air;  "  a  poor  but  honest  peddler — licensed  by  the  most  worshipful  house  of  parlia- 
ment— trafficking  in  a  poor  way,  fair  sir — a  very  small  poor  way — and  judging  it  a  gain 
alway,  I  do  profess  it  in  the  sight  of  Heaven— a  gain  not  carnal,  nor  pertaining  to  mere 
worldly  lucre,  but  a  great  gain  to  the  immortal  soul,  if  I  can  spoil  somewhat  in  the  way 
of  trade  those  overproud  Egyptians — the  malignants — even  as  excellent  Moses  despoiled 
Pharaoh,  and  his  court.  Verily,  yea  !  indeed — if  it  be  but  a  few  poor  pennies  on  the 
ell  measure,  it  is  still  somewhat." 

A  grim  smile  curled  the  lip  of  one  or  two  of  the  soldiers  at  this  outburst — but  nothing 
could  exceed  the  entertainment  of  the  young  forester  manifested  by  a  stentorian  roar 
of  laughter,  which  burst  as  it  were  irrepressibly  from  his  lungs,  till  the  tears  fairly  rolled 
down  his  sunburnt  cheeks,  at  the  peddler's  ludicrous  and  somewhat  overstrained  imita- 
tion of  the  puritanic  snuffle.  With  no  friendly  eye  did  the  officer  regard  his  mirth — nor 
was  he  in  the  least  persuaded  by  the  peddler's  eloquence. 

"  Show  me  thy  license,  sirrah  !  I  do  misdoubt  thee  yet,  for  all  thy  seeming  honesty  . 
Surely  'tis  no  rare  thing  for  the  wolves  now-a-days  don  the  sheep's  clothing.  Show 
me  thy  license.  Well,  it  is  right,  I  see,"  he  added  after  a  pause,  "  but  I  shall  search 
thy  pack,  before  I  let  thee  go,  I  promise  thee.  Now,  lancepesade,  take  three  of  your 
best  men — bring  all  the  women  folk  together  into  one  place,  and  set  a  sentry  over  them ; 
but  see  they  take  no  harm.  Then  search  the  hostlery  from  the  cellar  upward,  and  if 
ye  find  Mm,  as  well  I  wot  ye  will,  tarry  not  to  ask  questions  or  make  prisoners — but 
shoot  him  dead  upon  the  instant,  and  hew  his  head  off  from  his  shoulders — there  is  a 
price  set  on  it,  that  will  pay  the  labor.  Thou,  Anderson,  picket  the  horses  there  beside 
the  horse-trough.  You,  sirs,  stand  to  your  firelocks,  and  see  that  none  of  these  stir 
hence  ;  unless  it  be  that  fellow  of  Lord  Fairfax's  following.  Ha  !  who  is  this  ?  I  saw 
him  not  before,"  he  continued,  stepping  out  as  he  spoke,  toward  the  idiot  boy ;  "  who 
art  thou  ?" 

"  He  is  an  idiot  lad !"  said  Sherlock,  speaking  very  quickly,  "  witless,  and  alrnosc 
speechless,  from  his  cradle — he  cannot  answer  thee  if  he  would — vex  him  not — if  thou 
art  a  man !" 

'  Keep  your  breath,  my  good  fellow,  I  advise  you,"  retorted  the  other,  "  for  your  own 
porridge — which  you'll  find  hot  enough  anon,  I  deem  it  very  probable — and  you,  sir, 
answer  me  straightway,  if  you  would  avoid  the  strapado  !"  and  with  the  words  he  laid 
his  hand  roughly  on  the  poor  idiot's  shoulder,  who  glared  up  into  his  face  with  an  un- 
meaning  vacant  stare,  but  answered  not  a  word. 


OR,     THE    MAID'S     REVENGE.  25 

"  Speak,  sirrah  fool !"  continued  the  other  brutally,  giving  him  at  the  same  time  a 
slight  shake — but  at  that  moment  the  old  mastiff  bitch,  which  had  slept  without  moving 
during  all  that  had  passed  heretofore,  but  had  roused  herself  up  as  the  soldier  drew  near 
her  hapless  trust,  uttered  a  savage  yell,  and  flew  at  his  tormentor.  But  he,  seeing  at 
half  a  glance  that  she  was  toothless  and  quite  impotent  to  do  him  any  harm,  drew  back 
a  little  so  as  to  give  the  utmost  impetus  to  the  blow,  and  kicked  her  in  the  chest  with 
the  full  swing  of  his  heavy  boot — her  furious  yell  was  changed  into  a  dolorous  howl  as 
she  rolled  over  and  over,  sprawling  and  struggling  close  to  the  feet  of  one  of  the  privates, 
who,  following  up  his  officer's  brutality  by  a  piece  of  his  own,  instantly  knocked  her 
brains  out  with  the  iron-plated  butt  of  his  heavy  carbine. 

A  deep  red  flush  crossed  the  bold  features  of  the  forester,  and  again  left  them  pale 
as  death ;  but  he  saw  that  it  was  useless  to  interfere,  and  that  to  do  so  might  in  fact  only 
produce  worse  usage.  Not  so  John  Sherlock,  who  struggled  so  violently  with  the  two 
Ironsides  who  held  him,  swearing  and  calling  them  by  every  vituperative  and  contempt, 
uous  term  the  cavaliers  had  applied  to  their  party,  that  one  of  them  gave  him  to  under 
stand  that  he  should  share  the  same  fate  as  the  mastiff,  if  he  did  not  hold  himself  still 
on  the  instant. 

But  in  a  moment,  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye,  the  whole  expression  of  the  idiot's  face 
was  changed — the  unmeaning,  bead-like  eyes  glared  with  a  strange  unnatural  fire — he 
champed  his  strong  white  teeth,  till  the  foam  flew  from  them  like  the  froth  churned 
from  the  angry  tushes  of  a  hunted  boar — he  sprang  upon  his  feet,  littering  a  long  pro- 
tracted  howl  more  like  the  cry  of  some  fierce  and  terrible  wild  beast  tnan  any  voice  of 
man,  and  brandishing  his  hands,  contorted  into  the  semblance  of  an  eagle's  talons,  he 
seized  the  strong  man  by  the  throat,  and,  nerved  by  the  supernatural  force  of  madness, 
throttled  him  till  his  face  grew  purple,  and  his  breath  rattled  in  his  throat,  and  shook 
him  to  and  fro  as  if  he  was  the  merest  stripling  in  the  hug  of  a  practiced  athlete.  For 
a  few  seconds'  space  the  men  stood  mute  and  motionless  in  consternation,  but  roused 
to  a  perception  of  their  officer's  danger,  for  the  boy  still  clung  to  him  like  an  enraged 
tiger,  giving  vent  to  his  fury  all  the  while  by  the  most  appalling  sounds  that  can  be  con- 
ceived to  issue  from  a  human  throat — sounds  terribly  chorused  by  the  deep  sobs  and 
inarticulate  ejaculations  of  the  half-strangled  soldier,  and  by  the  thrilling  shrieks  of  the 
imprisoned  women  from  within — three  almost  simultaneously  sprang  forward.  But,  as 
the  foremost  stretched  forth  his  hand  to  grasp  the  idiot,  Norman  advanced  one/pace 
with  a  swift  stride,  and  shifting  his  rifle  rapidly  into  his  left  hand,  struck  him  a  flush  hit 
in  the  face  with  all  the  strength  and  quickness  of  a  skilful  boxer — between  the  actual 
force  of  the  blow,  and  the  impetus  with  which  the  Puritan  rushed  to  meet  it,  the  effect 
was  tremendous — headlong  was  the  wretch  hurled,  as  if  he  had  been  shot  from  some 
engine,  with  the  blood  spouting  from  nose,  eyes,  and  mouth ;  and  when  he  struck  the 
ground  with  all  his  steel  accoutrements  clanging  about  him  as  he  fell — he  lay  there 
prostrate  and  motionless,  as  if  he  had  been  killed  upon  the  spot.  Almost  at  the  same 
point  of  time  in  which  Norman  struck  that  hearty  blow  in  his  defence,  the  paroxysm 
of  the  idiot's  attack  was  over.  Relaxing  his  hold  on  the  half-strangled  Puritan,  he 
staggered  backward,  and  sunk  into  his  wicker  chair  in  the  rigid  seizure  of  an  epileptic 
fit,  slavering  fearfully  through  his  grinded  teeth,  rolling  his  eyes  upward  till  the  whites 
alone  were  visible,  and  clenching  his  hands  till  the  blood  started  from  his  palms  under 
the  pressure  of  his  nails.  As  he  did  so,  the  other  two  privates,  who  had  sprung  forth 
in  the  first  instance  to  release  their  officer,  seeing  him  now  freed  from  his  assailant, 
rushed  on  the  forester,  and  taking  him  entirely  by  surprise  disarmed  him,  ere  he  could 
use  his  rifle,  and  bound  his  hands  behind  him  with  a  sword  belt.  At  the  same  moment 
the  corporal,  with  the  three  privates  who  had  accompanied  him  returned  from  their 
search,  and  announced  it  fruitless — for  that  there  was  clearly  no  person  in  the  house 
except  its  usual  inmates,  and  further,  that  they  had  found  no  signs  of  any  recent  visitor; 
while  freed  from  the  restraint  of  the  sentry,  the  women  ran  out  to  the  assistance  of  the 
wretched  idiot  and  carried  him  in,  still  altogethet  senseless  and  inanimate.  It  was  a 
little  while  before  the  cornet,  by  whose  brutality  th*  whole  disturbance  had  been  caused, 

2          "      • 


26 

recovered  from  the  confusion  into  which  the  assault  of  the  witless  bo/  had  thrown  him 
— but  when  he  did  so — his  face  livid  with  all  bad  passions,  and  his  cool  malignant  eye 
proclaimed  him  dangerous,  no  lesss  surely  than  did  the  first  words  which  he  uttered. 

"  Lancepesade — draw  up  instantly  three  file — tie  the  dog  forester  to  yonder  horsepost, 
and  shoot  him  in  two  minutes,  for  an  example  to  all  treasonable  brawlers.  I'll  teach 
him,  that  to  serve  a  lord  is  no  excuse  for  treason  I" 

Not  a  shade  paler  did  the  cheek  of  the  stout-hearted  Norman  grow,  as  he  heard  the 
fell  sentence,  and  saw  the  minions  of  his  enemy  clustering  around  him,  and  preparing 
to  carry  into  effect  the  atrocious  mandate  ;  nor  did  one  muscle  tremble  in  his  sinewy 
frame,  although  he  saw  that  no  mere  threat  or  mockery  was  intended,  but  that  it  was 
cold  and  stern  reality,  without  one  hope  of  rescue.  He  did  not  speak  a  word,  but  his 
lips  moved  as  he  prayed  fervently  in  silence. 

"  By  God  !"  exclaimed  John  Sherlock,  almost  in  a  shout,  as  he  looked  on  in  impo- 
tent but  furious  indignation,  at  the  preparations  for  the  murder  of  his  friend :  "  By 
God  !  to  see  this,  a  man  would  think  there  was  no  law  in  England — no  justice  under 
heaven !" 

"  Then  would  a  man  think  most  unwisely,"  answered  a  clear,  harmonious,  and  well- 
pitched  voice  from  behind  the  group,  all  of  whose  faces  were  turned  either  toward  the 
house,  or  down  the  lane  to  the  eastward — "  then  would  a  man,  I  say,  John  Sherlock, 
think  most  unwisely ;  for  there  are  laws  in  England,  and  while  I  am  a  magistrate, 
there  shall  be  justice  too  !" 

The  eyes  of  all  were  directed  in  an  instant  to  the  sound  ;  and  there,  just  at  the  west- 
ern entrance  of  the  lane  into  the  little  green,  upon  a  fine  bay  hunter,  which  he  had 
just  pulled  up  as  he  came  suddenly,  and  most  unexpectedly,  upon  the  scene  of  so  foul 
violence,  sat  the  speaker.  He  was  a  fine-looking  young  man,  of  eight  or  nine-and- 
twenty  years,  with  a  broad  ample  forehead,  from  which  a  profusion  of  dark  chestnut- 
colored  hair  fell  off  in  loose  and  natural  curls  over  the  collar  of  his  doublet ;  large  clear 
gray  eyes,  and  a  set  of  features  not  in  themselves  so  eminently  handsome,  as  they  were 
remarkable  for  their  intellectual  cast,  and  for  the  stamp  of  worth  and  calm  unaffected 
majesty  which  they  wore,  as  if  it  were  their  every-day  accustomed  garment;  not  a  dis- 
guise assumed  to  suit  occasions,  and  thrust  at  other  times  aside  lest  it  should  mar  the 
aims,  or  clash  with  the  pursuits  of  the  wearer.  In  person  he  was  broad-shouldered, 
and  deep-chested,  and  long-limbed,  and  sat  his  horse  with  that  easy  grace  which  can 
be  acquired  only  by  long  practice,  and  with  something  of  a  military  air. 

His  dress  was  a  complete  riding-suit  of  fine  pearl-colored  cloth,  slightly  but  tastefully 
embroidered  with  silk  of  the  same  color,  high  cavalry  boots  carefully  polished,  and  a 
broad-leafed  hat  of  gray  beaver,  with  a  silk  hat-band  fastened  by  a  broad  silver  buckle, 
but  without  any  feather  or  cockade.  His  sword,  a  handsome  silver-hilled  rapier  in  a 
steel  scabbard,  was  girt  about  his  waist  by  a  rich  scarf  of  silvery  satin,  presenting,  with 
the  aid  of  the  snow-white  linen  and  lace  border  of  his  Heemskirke  cravat,  a  picture  of 
the  most  graceful  and  finished  neatness  that  can  be  imagined  ;  although  from  the  sober- 
ness of  its  colors,  and  the  absence  of  all  tawdry  ornament,  it  was  evident  that  the 
wearer  belonged  to  the  parliamentarian  party,  which  was  generally — and  for  the  most 
part,  it  must  be  admitted,  justly — stigmatized  by  the  cavaliers  as  careless  and  ill- 
appointed,  if  not  actually  sordid,  in  appearance.  There  were  holsters  at  his  saddle- 
bow, and  the  butts  of  a  pair  of  handsomely-mounted  pistols  showed  that  they  were  not 
there  for  mere  show. 

When  he  had  spoken  those  few  words,  in  a  voice  and  manner  that  accorded  per- 
fectly with  the  calm  dignity  of  his  demeanor,  he  rode  slowly  forward  toward  the  house, 
followed  by  no  less  than  six  servant  men  dressed  in  plain  liveries  of  dark  drab  cloth, 
superbly  mounted  on  bay  horses,  and  all  well  armed  with  sword  and  pistol ;  who  drew 
out  from  the  lane  and  quietly  fell  into  line  without  any  word  given,  but  with  a  regular 
and  business-like  method,  that  showed  very  clearly  that  both  men  and  horses  had  been 
accustomed  to  military  manoeuvres,  and  had  performed  them  not  only  on  the  holiday 
fields  of  practice,  but  under  the  hot  fire  of  squadrons. 


OR,     THE     MAID'S     REVENGE.  27 

A  bright  smile  played  across  the  face  of  Norman,  the  moment  that  he  heard  the 
voice  of  the  young  gentleman,  chasing  away  the  shadows  that  had  gathered  there, 
eren  as  the  summer  sunshine  dispels  the  mist  that  shrouds  some  striking  landscape  ; 
and  a  still  broader  expression  of  delight  gleamed  out  upon  the  sturdy  lineaments  of 
good  John  Sherlock.  The  others  appeared,  indeed,  somewhat  confused  and  disap- 
pointed at  the  interruption  ;  but  their  commanding  officer  seeing  that  his  force  was  still 
superior  to  that  of  the  new  comers,  hastily  ordering  his  men  to  fall  in  and  look  well  to 
their  carbines,  walked  forward  a  few  steps,  and  said — addressing  himself  to  the  leader 
of  the  party,  with  something  more  of  respect  than  he  had  hitherto  displayed  to  any  per- 
son present,  but  still  abruptly,  and  almost  rudely :  "  And  pray,  sir,  who  may  you  be, 
who  talk  so  loudly  about  justice  ?  I  am  Cornet  Despard,  at  your  service,  of  his  excel- 
lency the  Lord  General  Cromwell's  own  regiment  of  Ironsides  ;  and  if,  as  your  words 
seem  to  show,  you  be  in  truth  an  admirer  of  justice,  and  you  think  well  to  tarry  here 
some  six  or  seven  minutes,  then  you  are  like  to  see  it  done  upon  as  sturdy  a  knot  of 
malignants  as  an  honest  man  need  light  upon  in  one  September  day." 

"  I  thank  you  for  your  information,  Cornet  Despard,"  returned  the  other,  in  the  same 
cool  sonorous  voice  which  he  had  used  before — "  I  thank  you  for  your  information,  sir  ; 
and  have  the  honor  to  reply  to  you,  that  I  am  Major  General  Henry  Chaloner,  colonel 
of  the  fifth  regiment  of  horse,  and  commander-in-chief  of  this  district  here  of  Worcester. 
And  now  to  speak  of  justice,  sir,  I  trust  that  on  looking  somewhat  more  narrowly  into 
these  matters,  it  may  not  appear  that  you  have  overstepped  the  limits  of  its  more  accu- 
rate construction." 


CHAPTER    VI. 

IT  can  be  very  readily  conceived  what  was  the  effect  produced  by  this  announcement 
of  the  name  and  rank  of  the  gentleman,  who  had  come  in  so  opportunely  to  interrupt 
the  summary  proceedings  of  the  Ironsides — a  name  which  had  been  rendered  honorably 
notorious  by  the  gallantry  and  conduct  of  its  owner,  throughout  the  long  and  bloody  war 
which  had  so  fiercely  devastated  England — a  rank  which  placed  him  in  the  immediate 
command  of  all  the  military  parties  within  the  limits  of  his  district.  The  men  imme- 
diately presented  arms  ;  and  with  an  aspect  singularly  meek  and  crest-fallen,  the  cornet 
commenced  stammering  out  a  justification  of  his  barbarous  proceedings.  But  Chaloner 
scarce  heard  him  through  four  sentences — wherein,  though  laboring  hard  to  show  some 
case  against  Frank  Norman,  he  had  entirely  failed  to  do  so — before  he  interrupted  him. 

"  No,  sir — no  cause  at  all !"  he  said ;  "no  cause  at  all,  even  to  arrest  the  young  man. 
If  he  did  strike  the  soldier,  he  was  in  execution  of  no  duty.  I  do  assure  you,  Cornet 
Despard,  that  it  is  very  well  for  you  I  came  up,  ere  you  had  gone  further.  As  it  is,  sir, 
give  me  your  sword ;  return  straightways  to  your  quarters,  and  report  yourself  under 
arrest.  I  will  see  your  colonel,  and  confer  with  him  to-morrow.  How  now,  master 
Sherlock,"  he  continued,  "  what  have  you  been  about,  to  bring  yourself  within  the 
pale  of  martial  law  ?" 

"  Lord  love  you,  General  Henry,"  returned  the  jolly  farmer,  "  nothing  !  unless  it  be 
a  crime  in  the  calendar  to  find  a  horse  !  And  if  it  be,  it  is  a  very  new  one  !  But  I 
don't  know,  mayhap  the  young  man  thought  I  stole  it." 

"  Fie  !  fie  !  thou  steal,  John  Sherlock !  That  scarcely  will  pass  muster,  even  for  a 
suspicion.  Here  is  another  very  palpable  straining  of  authority,  which  trust  me,  Cornet 
Despard,  I  am  not  the  man  to  pass  over  or  forget.  Setting  aside  the  gross  injustice, 
the  petty  pelting  tyranny  of  these  proceedings,  sir,  the  mere  report  of  such  things,  done 
by  an  officer  of  the  parliament,  will  work  more  evil  to  the  cause  than  a  defeat  on  a 
pitched  field  of  battle.  We  shall  have  all  the  country  crying  out  on  us,  and  that  top 


28  MARMADTTKEWYVIL; 

very  justly ;  for  of  a  truth  this  is  the  very  wantonness  of  petty  persecution.  What  were 
the  further  duties,  sir,  enjoined  upon  this  patrol,  besides  the  bullying  of  idiot  boys,  and 
plundering  of  peddlers'  packs  ?  What  were  your  orders  ?" 

"  To  scour  the  country  roads,  searching  such  places  as  I  should  deem  suspicious,  and 
making  prisoners  all  armed  malignants,  with  an  especial  view  to  the  arrest  of  Captain 
Wyvil,  who  escaped  somewhere  in  this  quarter  from  Gettes's  brigade  last  night.  When 
I  had  finished  here,  I  did  propose  to  make  further  search  at  Woolverton." 

"  To  what  end,  sir  ?  The  Hall  was  searched  last  night,  as  I  have  learned  this  morn, 
ing  by  a  dispatch  from  my  worshipful  friend,  master  Selby  ;  and  no  one  found  therein, 
nor  any  shade  of  reason  for  suspicion.  There  was  some  rudeness  too  on  that  occasion, 
and  his  fair  daughter  was  entreated  but  discourteously.  Strange  !  that  men,  calling 
themselves  soldiers,  and  wearing  honorable  swords,  should  stoop  unto  so  base  actions. 
Enough,  sir !  for  the  present — you  know  my  pleasure — this  sword  shall  be  restored  to 
you  only  upon  the  verdict  of  your  officers.  Lancepesade,  Cornet  Despard  is  your  pris- 
oner ;  march  him  at  once  on  to  head-quarters,  and  give  my  service,  Major  General 
Chaloner's  service,  and  fair  greeting  to  Colonel  Keating,  or  to  Major  Gettes — and  / 
have  ordered  him  under  arrest  for  a  court  martial !  And  for  yourself,  sir,  and  your 
men,  I  bid  you  to  beware.  I  have  heard  complaints  erewhile  of  much  misconduct 
toward  the  people  of  the  country.  See  that  ye  bear  yourselves  henceforth  soberly  at 
the  least,  and  modestly ;  or  it  shall  be  the  worse  for  ye.  It  hath  pleased,"  he  con- 
tinued, reverentially  touching  the  brim  of  his  hat  as  he  spoke — "  It  hath  pleased  the 
Great  Dispenser  of  the  universe  to  put  an  end  to  the  bloody  and  infuriate  strife  which 
hath  now  for  so  many  years  laid  waste  our  native  land !  The  power  of  the  parlia- 
ment is  firmly  established  throughout  all  England  !  There  are  no  enemies  in  arms 
throughout  the  island !  And  you  must  learn  to  know,  that  although  soldiers,  ye  are 
citizens  also ;  and  as  citizens  amenable  to  the  English  laws ;  to  which,  in  my  district 
at  the  least,  I  will  take  care  that  ye  shall  be  obedient !  Remember,  men,  what  I  now 
say  to  you,  so  shall  ye  'scape,  it  may  be,  worse  censure  in  the  time  to  come — and 
above  all,  remember  that,  while  I  rule  in  Worcestershire,  all  men  of  all  opinions,  of  all 
parties,  so  they  obey  the  laws  and  keep  the  peace  of  the  land,  shall  be  protected  harm- 
less, as  our  countrymen  and  brothers.  Now,  lancepesade,  release  your  prisoners, 
draw  off  your  men,  and  mount  them,  and  make  no  tarrying  on  the  way.  See  that  you 
do  report  yourself  at  Barnsley  Moor  ere  noon  !  Begone,  sir." 

Within  five  minutes  the  horses  were  unpicketed,  the  musketoons  reslung  ;  the  cor- 
poral gave  the  word,  "  prepare  to  mount — mount !  Fall  in !  by  files  Ma-arch  ! 
Steady,  men  !  Trot !"  and  with  their  late  commander  riding  crest-fallen,  dark  and 
sullen,  as  a  disarmed  and  disgraced  prisoner  in  the  centre  of  the  detachment,  they 
swept  off  at  a  hard  trot,  that  soon  caused  the  jingling  of  their  spurs  and  scabbards,  and 
all  the  noisy  clatter  of  their  harness  to  be  lost  in  the  distance,  down  the  green  wind- 
ings of  the  lane. 

The  Ironsides  were  sca'rcely  out  of  hearing  when  Henry  Chaloner  dismounted  from 
his  horse,  and  casting  the  bridle  to  the  oldest  of  his  servants,  who  had  sprung  to  the 
ground  as  soon  as  he  saw  his  master  alighting,  desired  him  to  bait  the  beasts  with  a 
good  feed  of  oats,  and  then  to  get  his  breakfast  with  his  fellows  ;  instructions  which 
were  attended  to  forthwith  with  a  degree  of  alacrity  that  seemed  to  prove  them  by  no 
means  unwelcome.  After  having  given  these  directions,  he  turned  to  John  Sherlock, 
and  begged  that  he  would  proceed  no  farther  on  his  way  till  they  should  have  some 
minutes  of  discourse  together — and  receiving  his  assurance  that  he  would  wait  his 
pleasure,  if  it  should  be  till  midnight,  he  stooped  his  head  to  pass  into  the  low-browed 
porch,  and  entered  the  little  hostelrie  in  silence. 

"  There  now!"  exclaimed  the  farmer,  as  he  disappeared — "there  goes  as  brave  a 
soldier,  and  as  good  a  gentleman  as  any  one  in  all  England  !" 

"  Ay  !  that  he  is,"  replied  young  Norman,  "  be  the  other  who  he  may.  If  all  the 
Puritans  were  such  as  Henry  Chaloner,  many  a  kingsman  hereaway  would  join  with 
them." 


OR,     THE     MAID'S     REVENGE.  29 

"  Puritan  !  Tush — he's  no  more  a  Puritan  than  thou  be,"  Sherlock  answered.  "  He 
always  went  to  church,  while  church  there  was  i'  the  old  abbaye — and  never  was  seen 
at  conventicle — and  he  rides  well  with  the  staghounds — ay  1  and  I've  seen  him  shoot 
at  the  butts,  and.  dance  around  the  maypole — many's  the  summer  evening  !  He  is  no 
Puritan  !" 

"  Why  man,  he  was  against  the  king  from  the  beginning,"  retorted  the  other  ;  "  he 
spoke  against  him  always  in  the  parliament  houses  ;  and  when  the  people  armed,  he 
was  among  the  first,  and  fought  in  every  battle  through  the  war  from  Edgehill  down 
to  Worcester ;  and  if  he  was  opposed  to  them  that  cut  the  king's  head  off  at  White, 
hall,  when  it  was  done  and  over,  he  helped  to  keep  the  son  out  of  the  father's  throne. 
If  he  be  not  a  Puritan — then  I  don't  know  what  is  one  !" 

"  Well !  well !  he  isn't  what  I  call  one,"  persisted  honest  John,  "  for  he  isn't  a 
preaching  and  a  praying  always,  in  season  and  out  of  season — and  he  don't  snuffle 
through  his  nose,  like  a  hog  in  a  high  wind  ;  nor  whine  like  a  whipped  spaniel.  He 
isn't  a  fanatic,  nor  a  hypocrite,  nor  a  canter — not  a  fawner  on  the  great,  nor  a  grinder 
of  the  poor  and  helpless.  He  has  an  honest  kind  heart,  and  an  open  eye  that  looks  a 
man  i'the  face ;  and  a  frank  smile  on  his  lips,  and  a  ready  and  bold  answer  on  his 
tongue.  And  so  I  say  he  is  not  a  Puritan — and  what  I  say,  that  I'll  uphold,  Frank 
Norman." 

"  That's  right,"  answered  Norman,  laughing — "  that's  right,  John,  always  !  But 
you'll  find  no  one  here  to  contend  with ;  for  he  is  a  good  gentleman,  and  well  liked 
through  the  country — Puritan  or  no !  But  it  won't  do,  my  standing  chattering  here 
with  all  my  rounds  to  go — and  the  morn  growing  late  already — I  must  be  moving,  and 
that  briskly- — there's  an  outlying  buck  somewhere  nigh  Reardon  forest,  that  I've  been 
after  these  three  days,  and  for  the  life  of  me  I  cannot  get  on's  slot."  And  with  the 
words  he  took  his  rifle  up  again,  looked  at  the  priming  and  the  flint,  and  whistling  a 
lively  air,  vaulted  over  the  fence  near  the  horse-trough,  and  traversing  the  meadow  with 
a  light  springy  step  was  lost  to  sight  in  the  plantations  at  the  farther  side.  His  example 
was  immediately  followed  by  John  Brent  and  the  peddler,  who  went  off,  the  formei 
leading  his  white  pony,  and  the  latter  sturdily  shouldering  his  pack,  in  the  direction 
of  the  Hail ;  while  the  bold  farmer,  after  watching  the  grooms  for  a  few  minutes  busied 
about  the  horses,  tied  the  black  charger  to  a  staple  in  the  shade,  and  stretching  him- 
self out  at  full  length  on  a  settle  in  the  sunshine,  to  wait  the  officer's  leisure,  was  soon 
snoring  in  as  sound  a  morning's  sleep  as  ever  sealed  an  eyelid. 

In  the  meanwhile  the  subject  of  their  conversation,  quietly  lifting  the  latch  of  the 
old  oaken  door,  entered  the  kitchen  ;  which  was,  as  usual  in  those  days,  the  principal 
apartment  of  the  inn.  It  was  a  large  long  room  with  wainscoted  wall,  and  a  low 
ceiling  of  black  oak  from  which  were  suspended  hams,  flitches  of  bacon,  and  huge 
pieces  of  hung-beef,  sufficient  to  have  maintained  an  army  for  a  twelvemonth.  The 
whole  farther  end  of  the  room  was  occupied  by  an  enormous  fireplace,  with  a  high- 
backed  wooden  settle  on  each  side  of  it,  and  a  tall  mantelpiece  grotesquely  carved  and 
blackened  with  the  smoke  of  ages.  Along  the  front,  looking  out  upon  the  little  green 
and  the  old  oak-tree,  were  no  less  than  three  latticed  casements,  their  ample  sills  be- 
decked  with  pots  of  flowers  and  sweet  herbs  ;  and  under  these  was  a  huge  oaken 
dresser,  so  brightly  polished  that  it  might  well  have  served  for  a  mirror  to  the  bright- 
cheeked  damsels  of  the  inn.  The  greater  part  of  the  wall,  facing  the  windows,  was 
covered  by  a  rack  filled  with  long  rows  of  splendid  pewter  trenchers  hardly  less  clear 
than  silver — a  tall  old  eight-day  clock  surmounted  with  a  glorious  canopy  of  peacock's 
feathers — two  corner  beauffets  well  stored  with  silver  tankards,  long  Venice  drinking 
glasses,  pieces  of  antique  porcelain,  a  japan  box  or  two  of  knives  and  spoons,  and  a  gilded 
salt-cellar — the  glory  of  the  whole  collection,  and  an  heirloom  of  the  family — with  sun- 
dry short-legged,  high-backed  chairs,  completed  the  furniture  of  the  quiet  hospitable 
room.  It  should  be  added,  that  everything  was  most  minutely  and  fastidiously  clean 
from  the  neatly-sanded  floor  to  the  polished  platters,  and  gleaming  copper  candlesticks 
and  skillets,  arranged  so  orderly  upon  the  walls.  There  was  not  a  cobweb  in  the 


80  MARMADtTKE 

darkest  nook ;  not  a  grain  of  dust  on  the  panes  of  the  corner  cupboards,  not  a  cloud  of 
moisture  on  the  drinking  glasses,  not  a  speck  of  tarnish  on  the  cups  and  tankards — the 
white  dimity  curtains  were  not  merely  spotless,  but  glossy  with  the  traces  of  the  recent 
iron ;  the  very  flytraps  of  paper,  quaintly  fashioned  by  the  scissors,  which  hung  from 
the  low  beams,  seemed  to  be  but  just  placed  there,  so  free  were  they  from  any  stain  or 
blemish. 

It  must  not  be  supposed,  however,  that  these  particulars  were  all,  or  indeed  any  of 
them,  now  observed  by  the  young  soldier — his  eye  did  indeed  run  over  them  as  he  en- 
tered, but  if  he  noted  them  at  all,  it  was  merely  as  things  which  he  had  seen  an  him- 
dred  times  before,  and  of  which  the  absence  alone  would  have  surprised  him.  Had  it, 
however,  all  been  unusual  and  new,  as  on  the  contrary  it  was  familiar  to  his  eyes,  he 
would  at  that  moment  have  disregarded  it — for  there  were  two  groups  in  the  room, 
either  of  which,  from  their  distressful  and  interesting  aspect,  would  have  monopolized 
the  thoughts  of  any  one.  The  first  was  composed  of  the  unhappy  idiot — or  '  innocent,' 
as  he  was  delicately  termed  by  the  country  folks,  who  had  not  recovered  from  his 
seizure,  although  the  violence  of  the  paroxysm  was  even  now  abating — surrounded  by 
ssveral  females  of  the  house,  bathing  his  sallow  brow  with  simple  essences,  laving  the 
acrid  slaver  from  his  quivering  lips,  and  using  such  mild  remedies  to  soothe  him  as 
their  experience  had  taught  them  to  apply. 

Among  these,  most  conspicuous  was  the  girl  Cicely,  with  another  pippin-cheeked 
dark-eyed  handmaid,  and  a  thin  gaunt  old  woman  with  snow-white  hair  neatly  arranged 
below  her  checkered  kerchief — but  superintending  all,  and  observing  with  a  deep  anx- 
ious eye  the  long-drawn  sobs  and  convulsive  twitches  of  the  boy,  was  a  young  woman, 
whose  appearance  could  scarce  fail  to  create  an  immediate  interest  in  the  eyes  of  the 
most  casual  observer.  She  was  a  pale  fair  creature,  with  a  singularly  intellectual  expres- 
sion on  her  features,  which  were  moulded  in  the  most  exact  lines  of  Grecian  symme- 
try. There  was  not,  however,  one  shade  of  color  on  her  pure  pale  cheek ;  not  one 
tint  of  the  blood  showing  through  the  transparent  skin — all  was  as  colorless,  and  seem- 
ingly as  cold,  as  statuary  marble,  except  the  mouth,  which  with  a  singular  contrast,  was 
of  the  ripest  richest  crimson — her  eyes  were  very  large  and  bright,  of  a  deep  liquid 
blue  ;  but  they  too  had  a  strangely  cold  and  chilling  aspect — a  clearness,  like  that  of 
the  cloudless  frosty  sky  of  a  December  day,  which,  although  quite  as  deep  and  liquid 
and  transparent  in  its  hue,  could  never  be  mistaken  for  the  warm  azure  of  a  midsum- 
mer's evening.  Her  hair,  which  was  exceedingly  profuse,  even  to  redundance,  was 
strained  tight  across  the  shapely  temples,  and  rolled  up  into  a  knot  of  the  smallest  pos- 
sible dimension  low  down  on  the  neck,  as  might  be  seen  through  the  thin  lawn  of 
her  unornamented  cap.  In  person  she  was  below  the  middle  size,  slightly  and  deli- 
cately made,  with  small  neat  feet  and  hands,  so  white  and  slender  that  many  a  court 
lady  might  have  envied  them  :  her  dress  was  a  high-necked  close-fitting  gown  of  some 
black  stuff  and  a  white  apron,  worn  without  any  ornament  at  all,  except  a  wedding 
ring  of  plain  gold,  which  perhaps  might  explain  both  the  black  garments,  and  the 
melancholy  air — for  no  words  can  describe  the  fixed  and  settled  sadness  which  was 
visible,  not  in  her  tranquil  features  only  and  her  unsmiling  lip,  but  in  every  sound  of 
frer  voice,  in  every  movement  of  her  body,  in  every  look  of  her  clear  unimpassioned 
eye.  She  spoke,  and  moved,  and  looked,  like  one  who,  although  in  the  world,  is  yet 
not  of  it — who  with  duties  to  perform,  and  cares  to  undergo,  has  neither  pleasure -in  the 
present,  nor  hope  in  the  future — and  alas  !  how  sad,  how  unspeakably  sad  and  pitiful ! 
thai  (mo  so  young,  so  gentle,  and  so  fair,  should  have  been  so  bereaved,  as  to  make  all 
the  laughing  earth,  with  all  its  sounds  and  sights  of  beauty,  one  wide  illimitable  tomb 
for  ever ! 

!  The  second  group,  which  had  an  interest  little  if  at  all  inferior  to  the  first,  consisted 
of  three  persons  only — an  old,  old  woman — so  old  that  she  seemed  indeed  to  have  lived 
far  beyond  the  space  allotted  to  man's  sojourn  here  below — seated  erect  in  a  large  easy 
chair  before  the  fire,  and  two  little  children.  A  single  glance  showed  that  the  ancient 
dame  was  confined  to  her  seat  by  some  paralysis,  or  other  ailment,  which  crippling  her 


OR,     THE     MAID'S     REVENGE.  31 

lower  limbs,  had  left  the  upper  portion  of  her  body  unaffected,  and  her  mind  unim. 
paired — she  was  stone-blind,  moreover,  with  that  uncommon  species  of  blindness, 
which,  while  it  entirely  destroys  the  vision,  yet  spares  the  appearance  of  the  eyeball  ; 
so  that  it  is  but  by  the  wandering  unspeculative  glare  of  the  clear  orbs,  that  a  stranger 
can  pronounce  them  sightless.  A  terrible  expression  of  anxiety  and  grief  and  fear  was 
now  distorting  the  serene  lineaments,  and  filling  the  blind  eyes  of  the  helpless  woman 
with  bitter  scalding  tears,  as  with  a  querulous  and  lamentable  cry  she  would  now  wail, 
and  now  asked  hurried  questions,  which  no  one  could  find  time  to  answer,  concerning 
"  her  boy — her  poor  boy — her  poor,  witless,  innocent  boy — Martin !" 

The  little  children,  two  bright-haired,  blue-eyed,  fairy-looking  girls,  of  six  and  eight 
years  old,  clinging  to  the  grandmother's  apron,  had  tried  at  first  to  comfort  her  with 
their  small  artless  prattle,  assuring  her  that  cousin  Martin  would  soon  be  better,  and  the 
like  ;  but  now  seeing  that  the  old  woman's  tears  and  terrors  but  increased,  they  too 
were  sympathetically  frightened,  and  were  both  weeping,  as  fast  as  their  little  eyes  could 
weep,  they  knew  not  wherefore. 

Such  was  the  scene  that  met  the  kind  eye  of  Henry  Chaloner,  as  he  entered ;  and  he 
immediately  advanced  to  the  first  group,  as  being  that  where  he  most  probably  might 
render  some  assistance — but  seeing  immediately  that  those  about  poor  Martin,  long 
since  habituated  to  his  malady,  were  managing  him  as  well,  or  better,  than  he  could 
have  advised  himself,  and  that  his  seizure  was  fast  yielding  to  their  soothing  applica- 
tions, he  turned  away  gently  without  asking  any  question,  and  walked  across  the  room 
with  a  light  step  toward  the  old  lady. 

"  Don't  be  alarmed,"  he  said,  in  the  lowest  tones  of  his  deep  measured  voice — "  don't 
be  alarmed,  I  beg  of  you,  dear  dame — for  there  is  no  occasion,  I  assure  you." 

"  Dear  Lord  !"  cried  the  old  woman,  starting  at  the  unexpected  sounds,  for  the  bustle 
about  the  sick  youth,  and  the  quietness  of  his  own  movements  had  prevented  her  dis- 
covering the  entrance  of  the  young  soldier — "  Dear  Lord  !  if  that  be  not  General 
Henry  !"  for  with  the  instinctive  quickness  of  the  blind  she  had  easily  recognized  his 
accents,  which  were,  indeed,  sufficiently  remarkable. 

"  It  is,  indeed,  Dame  Rainsford,"  he  replied,  taking  her  hand  gently  as  he  spoke, 
and  sitting  down  upon  the  wooden  settle  near  her — "  it  is  indeed  I — and  sorry  I  am 
too,  to  find  you  thus  grieved  and  terrified ;  but  I  assure  you  there  is  no  occasion  for 
alarm,  much  less  for  grief — at  all !  And  you  well  know  I  would  not  say  that,  if  it  were 
not  true,  even  to  set  your  poor  heart  at  rest — but  truly  there  is  none  !  Some  rude  men 
here  a  little  time  since  alarmed  poor  Martin,  it  would  seem,  and  he  has  had  one  of  his 
wonted  fits — no  more  I  do  assure  you — and  it  is  yielding  fast,  I  see,  even  now  to  your 
fair  daughter-in-law's  kind  tendance — he  will  be  better,  I  dare  promise  you,  anon  !" 

"  Ay,  sir — I'll  warrant  it,"  responded  the  old  woman,  reassured  instantly  by  the  calm 
voice  and  characteristic  consolations  of  Henry  Chaloner — "  I'll  warrant  it,  if  that  be 
all.  Marian  knows  how  to  care  for  him  well — heigho  !  poor  Marian — I  was  afraid  that 
it  was  something  worse,  for  I  heard  Martin  cry  out  fearfully  a  while  since — and  they 
have  had  no  time  to  answer  a  poor,  helpless,  castaway,  old  thing  such  as  I  am — but  I 
don't  find  any  fault — for  they're  good  children  all  of  them,  heigho !  but  since  I  lost  my 
poor  boy  Roger,  in  that  sad  fight  there  at  Long  Marston,  it's  all  dull  somehow — dull 
and  dreary — and  no  head  to  the  house  like  !  though  Marian  be  a  wonder !  Well  1 
well — it's  all  for  the  best — all  for  the  best,  thank  God — and  His  good  time  will  come  !" 

"Ay — indee.l,  is  it,"  answered  Chaloner.  "HE  never  burthens  any  beyond  their 
power  to  bear,  n::d  never  casts  a  snare  before  the  feet  of  any,  but  that  therewith  he 
frames  a  path  whereby  to  make  escape  from  it !  And  lo !  here  in  good  season,  Martin 
is  on  his  feet  again,  and  doing  bravely." 

"  Bring  him  this  way — bring  my  poor  child  this  way — will  you  not,  Marian  ?  where 
are  you  taking  him,  my  girl  ?" 

"  To  lie  down,  mother,  for  a  while,''  replied  the  young,  pale  widow,  obeying  her 
words,  nevertheless,  and  guiding  the  helpless  being  across  the  sanded  floor—"  he  al« 
ways  needs  sleep,  you  know,  after  the  fit  leaves  him  1" 


32  MARMADTTKEWYVIt; 

A  melancholy  scene,  but  one  of  surpassing  interest  and  beauty,  followed  ;  as  the  poor 
idiot,  led  up  by  his  widowed  aunt,  approached  his  bereaved  sightless  parent,  on  whom 
his  meaningless  and  stolid  eye  dwelt  with  a  feeble  glimmering  of  expression,  as  if  his 
veiled  imperfect  memory  partially  recognized  the  venerable  being  who,  years  ago  had 
soothed  his  anguished  infancy.  A  faint  sick  smile  played  over  his  pale  lips,  as  by  the 
force  of  habit  he  bowed  his  head  to  meet  the  pressure  of  her  thin  shrivelled  tremulous 
fingers,  and  felt  her  kiss  upon  his  sallow  forehead,  and  the  warm  tears,  which  fell  like 
summer  rain  upon  his  matted  locks. 

"  Bless  thee,  my  boy — my  poor,  poor  boy  !  God  bless  thee — for  thou  art  very  dear 
to  me — oh !  very  !  very !  although  thou  be  not  comely  to  the  sight — nor  gifted  with 
the  light  of  heavenly  reason — very  dear  art  thou  to  my  soul — child  of  affliction,  being 
of  suffering  and  sorrow — sole  relic  and  last  gift  of  my  fair  first-born — God's  goodness 
be  about  thy  lifelong  darkness,  to  guide  and  comfort  and  protect  thee." 

The  heavy  tears  dropped  fast  and  frequent  from  the  kind  eyes  of  Chaloner  at  this 
heart-touching  prayer,  and  as  he  saw  that  aged  woman  deprived  of  all  the  wonted  bles- 
sings of  this  life,  crippled,  and  blind,  and  reft  of  all  her  children,  bending  in  grateful 
prayer  over  that  idiot  boy  ;  his  soul  was  so  full  that  he  could  not  frame  an  '  Amen,'  as 
she  ended. 

They  led  the  poor  youth  to  a  chamber,  and  gradually  the  comely  and  serene  tran- 
quility,  which  was  its  usual  expression,  resumed  its  reign  over  the  face  of  the  blind 
woman ;  and  the  tears  of  the  little  girls  were  lost  like  April  showers  in  light  sunny 
laughter,  as  they  played  with  the  fringe  of  Henry's  scarf,  and  wondered  at  his  glitter- 
ing sword-hilt ;  and  Marian  and  her  maidens  returned  from  their  labor  of  love,  and  all 
things  again  wore  their  wonted  aspect. 

A  thoughtful,  quiet  gladness  was  perceptible  on  the  wan  features  of  the  youthful 
widow,  as  she  greeted  her  kind  guest,  and  apologized  briefly  and  simply  for  the  neglect 
he  had  experienced,  and  the  confused  state  of  the  household. 

"  Oh  !  speak  not  of  it,"  he  said,  much  more  quickly  than  it  was  his  custom  to  reply — 
"  speak  not,  I  pray  you,  of  it,  if  you  would  not  grieve  me.  I  saw,  and  was  very  sorry 
for  the  cause,  and  if  I  could  I  would  have  prevented  it  in  time — you  will  believe  me  when  I 
say,  I  would — as  it  is,  I  will  take  care  no  such  abuse  occur  again  within  my  district.  But 
now,  my  good  Marian,  I  must  put  you  to  some  trouble.  I  have  ridden  nearly  a  score 
of  miles  this  morning,  and  have  not  broken  my  fast  yet — and  I  have  with  me  six 
hungry  knaves  besides.  Will  you  prepare  some  food  for  us — and  show  me  to  your  sum- 
mer parlor,  where  I  may  write  a  letter,  and  commune  with  my  own  thoughts  a  little 
while  in  private  ?" 

"  Surely,  sir,  surely  1"  she  replied ;  "  would  it  were  in  my  power  to  show  by  greater 
services,  my  gratitude  for  all  your  goodness.  Walk  this  way,  General  Henry !"  and 
as  she  spoke,  she  opened  a  small  door  in  the  chimney  corner,  behind  the  oaken  settle, 
which  gave  access  to  a  narrow  winding  staircase,  up  which  she  led  him  into  a  pleasant 
lofty  chamber,  occupying  one  of  the  gables,  and  overlooking  from  its  large  latticed 
window,  the  smooth  green  meadows,  and  the  dark  quiet  woodlands  in  the  distance. 
The  floor  was  strown  with  clear  white  sand,  the  fireplace  filled  with  the  varnished 
leaves  and  bright  red  berries  of  the  holly  ;  the  walls  were  wainscoted  with  Mghly-pol- 
ished  oak — there  was  a  round  table,  with  a  standish,  pens  and  paper,  and  two  vast  old- 
fashioned  arm-chairs  in  the  recess  of  the  window — and,  in  short,  all  was  so  cool  and 
clean  and  tranquil,  and  the  mild  air  of  the  radiant  autumn  morning  came  in  so  balmily 
through  the  leaves  of  the  old  oak,  and  caught  such  pleasant  perfumes  from  the  flower- 
pots on  the  window-seat,  that  a  more  fitting  place  could  hardly  have  been  found  wherein 
to  fix  the  mind  in  meditation.  And  so  thought  Henry  Chaloner,  as  he  threw  himself 
into  the  chair,  and  wrote,  and  pondered  on  his  writing  ;  while  servants  went  and  came, 
and  spread  a  larger  board  behind  him  with  all  appliances  for  the  morning  meal,  unheard 
by  him,  or  at  the  least  unheeded.  At  last,  his  task  concluded,  he  raised  his  head,  and 
asking  for  a  taper  and  some  wax  to  secure  his  letters,  desired  that  his  head  groom  might 
come  to  him ;  and,  by  the  time  he  had  fastened  up  the  two  notes  he  had  written,  the 
man  stood  before  him. 


OR,     THE     MAID'S     REVENUE.  33 

"  Andrew,"  he  said,  "  let  James  Warr  take  the  Peacock  gelding,  and  ride  with  all 
speed  to  Colonel  Hastings's  quarters  at  Low  Barnslcy — he  must  be  contented  with  a 
crust  of  bread  and  a  draught  of  ale  till  his  errand  is  done — for  it  is  all  important. 
Then  he  may  feed  his  horse,  and  dine  and  breakfast  both  in  one,  and  ride  home  at  his 
leisure.  There  is  no  reply  to  wait  for ;  and  do  thou  take  this  note  thyself  to  Woolver- 
ton,  to  Master  Selby's,  and  tarry  for  an  answer.  It  will  not  hold  thee  long  ;  and  thou 
must  e'en  make  up  for  it,  when  thou  get'st  back.  I  warrant  me  thou'rt  hungry  now — 
but  there's  no  help  for  it,  good  Andrew.  The  meat  will  tarry,  but  not  so  the  matter." 

"  I'm  not  so  hungry,  sir,  but  I  can  ride  all  day,  and  all  night,  too — and  that  gladly — 
fasting,  if  it  were  on  your  service,"  answered  the  old  groom,  who  had  long  served,  and 
well  loved  his  young  master. 

"  I  thank  you,  Andrew,  and  believe  you ;"  he  replied,  "  but  shall  not  have,  I  hope, 
so  far  to  tax  your  willingness.  Meanwhile,  as  you  go  down,  ask  them  to  serve  my 
breakfast." 


CHAPTER    VII. 

THE  mind  of  Henry  Chaloner  was  one  of  those  unquestionably,  which  are  so  well 
and  accurately  balanced  by  nature  in  the  first  instance,  and  so  well  schooled  in  the 
second,  by  experience  and  Christian  philosophy,  that  of  all  they  are  the  least  likely  to  be 
thrown  into  violent  perturbation  by  the  pressure  of  any  external  circumstances.  He 
had,  moreover,  that  fixed  and  tranquil  self-reliance,  common  to  men  of  great  parts  who 
have  seen  much,  and  suffered  much  in  the  world,  which  enables  its  possessors  to  meet 
the  most  difficult  contingencies  with  a  quiet  resolute  front — and,  better  yet,  he  had  that 
immovable  faith  and  confidence  in  God's  power  and  mercy,  which  supports  the  Chris- 
tian, dauntless  and  invincible,  through  all  extremities  of  toil  and  trial.  Still,  there  is  no 
combination  of  natural  and  acquired  parts — no  innate  hardihood  of  heart,  no  practice 
in  the  world's  warfare — no  sternness  of  philosophy,  no  support  of  Christianity — nothing, 
indeed,  short  of  apathetic  dullness  and  deadness  of  the  soul — that  can  at  all  times  mas- 
ter grief,  and  bid  the  foul  fiends,  doubt,  despondency,  and  anxious  penetrating  care, 
avaunt  in  the  first  moment  of  their  onslaught ;  and  in  the  present  instance,  well-regu- 
lated as  was  the  mind  of  the  young  officer,  and  well-disciplined  to  suppress  its  feelings 
in  consideration  to  the  necessities  of  others,  it  were  entirely  useless  to  deny  that  for 
some  cause  or  other  he  was  exceedingly  restless  and  uneasy.  The  meal  which  was  set 
before  him  remained  almost  untasted,  although  it  consisted  of  every  delicacy  that  the 
time  and  place  could  furnish.  Though  the  red-spotted  trout  were  fresh  from  the  neigh, 
boring  brooklet ;  though  the  eggs,  which  accompanied  the  bubbling  rasher,  were  new- 
laid  that  morning ;  though  the  buttock  of  cold  powdered  beef  was  of  the  fattest,  and 
the  mustard  genuine  Tewksbury — and  though  all  was  served  with  that  appetizing  and 
rare  cleanliness  which  will  do  more  to  tempt  a  fastidious  palate,  than  the  most  luxurious 
dishes — still  there  was  something  at  work  within,  which  would  not  suffer  him  to  swal- 
low a  mouthful — he  made,  indeed,  several  efforts  to  conquer  his  reluctance,  but  still  the 
meat  would  not  down  ;  and  he  gave  up  the  point,  after  a  second  long  draught  from  the 
spiced  tankard,  which  the  fever  and  heat  of  his  mind  rendered  very  grateful. 

Throwing  himself  back  in  the  arm-chair,  he  remained  for  some  time  in  deep  thought 
with  his  hand  tightly  pressed  upon  his  eyes — then  he  rose  up  restlessly,  and  leaning  out 
of  the  window,  seemed  to  listen  whether  he  might  hear  anything  of  his  man's  return, 
although  there  had  scarcely  elapsed  time  enough  for  him  to  reach  the  Hall ;  and  then, 
as  if  recollecting  himself,  turned  away  from  the  casement,  and  began  walking  to  and  fro 
the  room,  with  slow  and  measured  paces,  which  showed  that  if  he  was  disturbed,  it 

2* 


$4  MARMADXTKEWYVIL; 

was  the  disturbance  of  a  regular  self-governing  spirit,  not  the  headlong  rashness  of  a 
violent  and  passionate  nature,  excited  beyond  all  control  by  any  casual  irritation. 

"  I  much  fear — I  very  much  fear  that  it  is  ao,"  he  at  length  muttered  to  himself, 
thinking  as  it  were  aloud  ;  "  and  if  so,  it  will  be  in  truth  a  difficult  bad  business.  I  know 
not  what  will  come  of  it." 

The  fact  was,  that  holding  a  situation  of  vast  importance  in  the  country,  the  office 
of  major-general  of  a  district  under  the  parliament,  being  tantamount  to  that  which 
is  now  termed  lord  lieutenant  of  a  county,  he  had  received  dispatches  which  gave 
him  no  slight  uneasiness ;  and  imposed  on  him  duties,  the  propriety  of  which  he  half 
doubted,  and  the  performance  of  which  could  not  but  be  most  painful  to  all  his  better 
feelings.  After  the  attempt  of  the  cavaliers,  seconded  by  a  great  part  of  the  Scottish 
people,  to  elevate  Charles  the  Second  to  the  throne  of  the  Martyr,  as  they  fondly  per- 
sisted in  calling  the  weak  man  who  had  fallen  a  victim  to  his  own  obstinate  and  selfish 
insincerity — after  this  attempt — checked  by  the  daring  energy  of  Cromwell  in  the  battle 
of  Dunbar  of  the  preceding  year,  and  now  completely  overthrown  and  prostrated  by 
the  crowning  mercy  of  Worcester  fight — a  spirit  of  persecution  broke  out,  or  at  least 
manifested  itself  far  more  generally  than  at  any  previous  period  of  the  war,  among  the 
Presbyterians  and  Independents,-  toward  the  scattered  fugitives  of  the  defeated  party. 
The  king  himself  was  hunted  with  a  vindictive  pertinacity,  from  which  men  augured 
easily  that  his  capture  would  lead  to  a  repetition  of  the  tragedy  of  the  thirtieth  of  Jan. 
uary — while  his  adherents  were  cut  down,  or  shot  like  dogs,  wherever  they  were  taken  ; 
many  days  after  the  entire  dispersion,  and,  as  it  might  almost  be  termed,  dissolution 
of  the  party. 

The  fears,  however,  or  the  hatred  of  the  parliament  remained  unsatisfied  ;  and  in- 
structions were  issued,  throughout  all  the  country,  to  all  the  major-generals  in  com- 
mand,  to  omit  no  precautions  for  the  preventing  the  assemblage  of  small  armed  bodies, 
which  might  serve  as  the  nuclei  of  future  risings ;  and  to  spare  no  pains  for  the  appre- 
hension of  sundry — the  most  eminent  leaders  of  the  late  rebellion,  whom  they  were 
directed,  as  fast  as  captured,  to  send  up  to  London ;  where  it  was  intended  that  they 
should  be  left  for  trial  on  indictments  of  high  treason.  A  general  amnesty  was  indeed 
talked  of;  but  unquestionably,  if  any  such  measure  were  in  contemplation,  so  many  ex- 
ceptions would  be  made  as  would  render  it  such  in  name  only — and  this  was  rendered 
evident,  by  the  long  list  of  persons  forwarded  to  the  governors  of  districts  for  imme- 
diate proclamation,  whom  men  were  forbidden  on  pain  of  forfeiture,  imprisonment,  and — 
in  some  cases — death,  from  "  resetting,  harboring,  or  comforting  with  food  or  fire  or 
raiment." 

All  this  tended  to  render  Henry  Chaloner  uneasy  ;  for  though  he  had,  as  we  have 
seen,  systematically  opposed  the  usurpations  of  the  king,  from  the  first  to  the  last — 
though  he  had  considered  Charles  the  First  unfit  to  reign,  and  his  son  even  more  un. 
qualified  to  succeed  him — though  he  had  exerted  all  his  powers  of  mind  and  body  to 
banish  the  obnoxious  issue  from  the  throne  and  the  country — and  though  he  was  pre- 
pared to  resist  to  the  utmost  all  efforts  to  reinstate  them — he  had  yet  nothing  in  his 
nature  of  the  bigot  or  persecutor  ;  and  he  would  now  have  instantly  extended,  not  only 
full  indemnity  from  any  personal  harm,  but  all  political  and  civil  privileges  to  all  men 
of  all  parties  and  opinions,  who  should  thereafter  be  contented  to  keep  the  sword  at 
rest  within  its  scabbard,  and  vex  the  land  no  longer. 

But  this  was  not  all  that  troubled  him,  nor  would  this  have  sufficed  to  trouble  him  so 
tar,  had  there  been  no  more  reason  for  anxiety — since,  in  the  first  place,  by  virtue  of 
his  office,  he  possessed  some  discretionary  power ;  and  so  great  was  the  attention  which 
had  been  ever  paid  to  his  opinions  by  the  great  man  who  swayed  the  destinies  of  Eng- 
land, that  he  had  little  fear  of  winning  from  his  calmer  judgment,  a  sanction  to  more 
merciful  proceedings  than  were  at  present  contemplated. 

At  a  late  hour  of  the  preceding  night,  he  had  been  roused  from  sleep  by  the  arrival  of 
an  orderly,  bearing  to  him  from  the  colonel  of  the  Ironsides  quartered  at  Barnsley  moor, 
a  full  narrative  of  the  pursuit  by  a  patrolling  party  of  the  proclaimed  malignant,  Captain 


on,    THE    MAID'SHEVENGE.  35 

Wyvil — of  his  extraordinary  escape,  when  escape  seemed  impossible — of  the  fruitless 
search  of  Woolverton  Hall — and  of  the  strong  grounds  which  still  existed  for  believing 
him  to  be  harbored  on  those  premises.  The  narrative  was  drawn  up  with  technical 
nicety,  and  therein  it  was  certified  that  several  of  the  brigade,  which  had  first  passed 
the  place — both  officers  and  privates — had  seen  a  young  and  beautiful  woman  at  the 
window  of  the  fish-house  !  It  was  shown  further,  that  when  the  second  party  came  up, 
scarce  twenty  minutes  later,  and  actually  searched  the  place,  it  was  vacant !  Again  it 
was  proved,  that  during  that  brief  interval  the  fugitive  must  have  passed  within  a  gun- 
shot  of  the  window  where  she  sat ;  and  that  there  was  not  any  lane  or  by-road,  between 
the  angle  of  the  road  leading  directly  to  the  bridge — which  he  had  been  seen  to  turn  by 
his  pursuers — and  the  spot  where  the  patrol  had  overtaken  Gettes's  brigade,  by  which 
he  could  have  turned  off  to  the  right  or  left,  and  so  eluded  the  close  chase. 

The  effect  of  this  evidence,  although  by  no  means  really  conclusive,  went  far  to  con- 
vince Henry  Chaloner,  who  well  knew  the  secret  predilections  of  his  cousin  Selby,  and 
the  romantic  high-minded  generosity  of  his  lovely  daughter,  that  by  some  means  or 
other  one  or  both  were  concerned  in  the  escape  of  Wyvil.  In  this  opinion  he  was  con- 
firmed yet  further  by  a  note  which  he  had  received,  before  he  left  his  chamber  in  the 
morning,  from  Mark  Selby,  informing  him  of  the  search  which  had  been  instituted  on 
his  premises,  complaining  of  the  rudeness  of  the  soldiery,  and  requesting  to  see  him  at 
his  early  leisure  on  business  of  some  import.  The  receipt  it  was  of  this  note  which 
caused  him  to  hasten  a  measure,  on  which  he  had  already  determined ;  and  he  accord- 
ingly ordered  his  horses  to  be  saddled  and  a  suitable  train  prepared;  and  set  forth  on  his 
ride  before  the  cocks  had  crowed  their  matin  song.  The  occurrences  which  befell  him 
afterwards,  and  especially  the  discovery  of  Wyvil's  horse  by  John  Sherlock,  close,  as  it 
was  represented,  to  the  place  where  the  fugitive  was  first  missed,  and  within  a  few 
yards  of  the  fishing-house,  scarce  left  a  doubt  in  his  mind  of  the  secret  agency  of  Alice 
in  the  young  cavalier's  escape.  It  is,  of  course,  unnecessary  to  say,  that  to  Chaloner 
this  agency — however  much  inconvenience  it  might  produce  to  himself,  or  peril  to  the 
fair  young  girl — did  not  appear  in  the  light  of  an  offence  against  any  laws,  either  human 
or  divine  ;  and  it  is  scarcely  to  be  doubted,  that  had  he  himself  been  situated  as  she 
was,  despite  his  official  duties,  he  would  have  acted  as  she  did,  and  facilitated  the 
evasion  of  a  fugitive,  whom  he  certainly  regarded  as  unfortunate  and  perhaps  mistaken, 
rather  than  criminal  or  guilty. 

Entertaining  these  opinions,  therefore,  the  thing  in  the  world  which  he  least  wished 
at  this  moment,  was  that  by  any  casualty  he  should  be  forced  to  discover  the  hiding, 
place  of  Wyvil.  Averse  in  the  first  place  to  cruelty  or  blood-shedding  under  all  circurh. 
stances,  convinced  that  in  the  present  crisis  leniency  was  the  true  and  politic  course  for 
the  restoration  of  tranquility  and  peace — and  confident,  moreover,  that  within  a  short 
space  of  time  he  could  bring  about  a  material  change  in  the  views  of  the  government, 
he  dreaded  to  have  this  case  of  Wyvil  so  brought  before  his  eyes  that  he  should  have 
no  alternative  but  to  arrest  him ;  when  his  fate,  and  not  his  fate  alone,  but  that  of  all 
who  had  assisted  him,  would  be  decided  on  the  instant. 

At  the  same  time,  he  was  too  rigid  in  his  views  of  duty  and  of  right,  to  connive 
secretly  at  any  act  which  he  would  not  avow  in  public — all  personal  consequences  he 
would  have  discarded  instantly,  as  utterly  unworthy  his  consideration — and  had  he 
with  his  own  hands  taken  Wyvil  in  the  open  country,  or  found  him  in  the  hands  of 
troopers  who  had  so  arrested  him,  he  would  have  very  probably  discharged  him  at  his 
own  peril,  if  satisfied  that  he  entertained  no  views  against  the  peace  of  England.  To 
do  this,  however,  if  he  should  be  detected  under  the  roof  of  Selby,  would  be  of  no 
avail  to  save  the  old  man  and  his  lovely  daughter  from  forfeiture  of  all  their  worldly 
goods,  and  from  a  long  imprisonment,  ending  perhaps  in  death  upon  the  scaffold.  He 
felt  that,  with  the  information  laid  before  him,  he  had  no  course  left  but  to  investigate 
the  case  completely,  and  if  it  should  prove  needful,  to  order  a  fresh  search !  And 
hating,  as  he  did,  to  contemplate  the  possibility  of  the  young  man's  being  brought  to 
judgment  by  his  means,  and  dreading — as  he  did  for  a  thousand  reasons — the  con- 


36  MARMADTTKEWYVIL; 

sequences  to  his  friends  and  kindred  at  the  Hall — who  shall  be  moved  by  wonder  if 
Henry  Chaloner,  despite  all  natural  advantages  of  equanimity  and  fortitude — all  sup- 
plemental  aids  of  discipline,  philosophy,  religion — was  ill  at  ease,  and  anxious,  and 
imhappy  ? 

An  hour  or  more  had  passed  since  he  dispatched  the  groom  to  the  Hall,  an  errand 
•which  should  not,  as  he  conceived,  at  the  most  have  occupied  one-half  that  time  ;  and 
after  looking  out  of  the  window  anxiously  two  or  three  times  within  five  times  as  many 
minutes,  he  ordered  his  horses  to  be  again  got  ready,  and  determined  to  ride  down  the 
road,  feeling  assured  that  he  should  meet  his  messenger  returning,  before  he  could  reach 
the  gates.  He  had  just  given  these  instructions,  when  the  sounds  of  a  slight  bustle 
reached  his  ears  from  the  rooms  below,  and  immediately  after  some  words  spoken  in  a 
low  silvery  voice,  which  fell  upon  his  soul  like  the  memory  of  some  familiar  tune  heard 
in  the  happy  days  of  boyhood  and  unforgotten  through  all  the  sins,  and  strifes,  and 
miseries  of  manhood,  even  to  remote  old  age.  It  was  but  a  few  words — or  to  speak 
more  correctly,  the  tones  and  accents  of  a  few  words,  which  were  themselves  inaudible, 
that  reached  him — and  these  too  dulled  and  deadened  by  the  distance  and  by  the  ob- 
stacles, through  which  they  were  transmitted  ;  yet  at  the  first  faint  note  he  started  to 
his  feet  listening  intently,  and  apparantly  recognizing  the  speaker,  in  a  moment  took  up 
his  hat  and  sword,  and  hastened  down  into  the  kitchen  whence  the  sounds  proceeded. 
The  moment  he  opened  the  door  from  the  small  turnpike  staircase,  with  the  full 
morning  sunshine  pouring  in  through  the  open  casement  on  her  beautiful  features  and 
graceful  figure,  Alice  Selby  stood  before  him,  conversing  in  tones  full  of  soft  considerate 
kindness  with  the  old  afflicted  woman,  and  the  young  widow,  who  were  listening  to 
all  she  said  with  an  expression  not  of  love  only  or  respect,  but  of  the  deepest  and  most 
reverential  gratitude.  Chaloner's  servants,  their  morning  meal  concluded,  had  long 
since  gone  out  to  attend  the  horses,  and  there  was  no  one  in  the  room  except  the  mem- 
bers of  the  family,  and  an  old  grayheaded  serving  man  in  a  plain  livery  of  green  and 
gold,  with  a  stone  jug,  holding  perhaps  two  quarts,  slung  in  a  leathern  belt  across  one 
shoulder,  and  a  large  wicker  basket  by  his  side ;  who  was  wiping  his  forehead,  as  if 
semewhat  tired  with  his  load,  although  there  was  a  cheerful  smile  upon  his  weather- 
beaten  features,  showing  that  he  grudged  not  the  easy  labor. 

Alice  was  speaking  at  the  moment  when  her  cousin  paused  at  the  open  door ;  but  as 
it  was  placed  in  a  dark  angle  of  the  room,  and  as  her  eyes  were  turned  in  a  direction 
somewhat  different,  she  did  not  see  him,  but  went  on  in  the  same  low  rmisical  accents, 
which  had  so  pleasantly  affected  him:  "So  when  I  missed  you,  Marian,"  she  said, 
"  from  our  little  congregation  at  the  Hall  on  Sunday,  I  was  afraid  there  was  something 
amiss  with  Dame  Rainsford  or  poor  Martin,  and  I  should  have  come  over  yesterday  to 
see  you  all ;  but  I  was  somewhat  occupied  in  the  forenoon  within  doors — and  to  say 
truly,  I  forgot  all  about  it  after  dinner,  and  went  out  to  walk  in  the  park,  and  fell 
asleep,  I  believe,  in  the  fish-house  ;  and  was  frightened  a  good  deal  afterwards — which 
was  certainly  very  foolish  in  me,  Marian — by  some  parliament  soldiers,  who  rode  by 
smoking  and  laughing,  and  making  a  loud  rude  disturbance.  But  when  I  saw  this 
morning  that  neither  of  my  little  pets,  Bella  nor  my  god-daughter  Alice,  were  at  school, 
I  was  quite  sorry  and  ashamed  of  my  neglect.  So  I  put  on  my  cloak  and  hood,  and 
made  old  Jeremy  bring  down  a  bottle  of  the  choice  Canary,  which  Doctor  Trowbridge 
thought  so  good  for  your  mother's  ailment,  and  a  few  cates  and  simples  from  my  own 
laboratory  for  poor  Martin." 

"  Oh  !  you  are  kind !  God  bless  you,  Mistress  Alice— and  HE  will,  I  doubt  not — but 
there  is  nothing  much  amiss — my  mother,  it's  true,  was  ailing  somewhat  on  the  Sunday 
morning,  and  that  was  the  reason  of  my  not  coming  up  to  chapel ;  but  she  was  quite 
well  yesterday  again — as  well  that  is,  as  she  can  hope  to  be — and  in  good  spirits,  God 
be  thanked  !  and  there  is  no  harm  done  this  morning,  though  the  soldiers  were  very 
rude  and  brutal,  and  used  Martin  so  that  he  got  one  of  his  bad  fits,  and  is  only  better 
of  it  now,  and  has  just  dropped  asleep !" 

*  Soldiers  1"  said  Alice,  turning  very  pale ;  «  what  soldiers  ?  are  they  here  now—' 


OR,     THE     MAID'S     REVENGE.  3t 

quick,  good  Marian  ?"  and  as  she  spoke,  she  pulled  the  hood  farther  over  her  features 
and  looked  wildly  around. 

"  None,  my  fair  cousin  ;"  answered  Henry,  before  any  of  the  others  had  time  to 
reply,  advancing  into  the  room  with  his  head  uncovered — "  none  at  all,  Alice,  unless 
you  count  me  one  ;  but  if  you  do,  I  don't  believe  you'll  judge  me  very  formidable  1" 

"  Oh  !  cousin  Henry,  is  it  you  ?"  she  answered  with  a  gay  smile  ;  "  you  startled  me 
at  first  a  little,  for  I  did  not  dream  of  meeting  you  here — No  !  I  don't  think  you  very 
fonnidable,  although  you  are  a  soldier  ;  but  that  is  more  than  we  can  say  for  all  of  your 
good  parliament  troopers — since  some  of  them  are  rude,  not  to  say  brutal !" 

"  Of  which  I  had  a  very  clear  proof  here  but  now,"  Chaloner  answered ;  "  and  in 
truth,  if  you  will  pardon  me,  I  do  think  you  were  best  confine  ytmr  walks  within  the 
limits  of  your  father's  grounds  just  now — these  Ironsides,  flushed  with  their  victory  at 
Worcester,  are  scouring  the  roads  all  round,  and,,  I  fear  much,  abusing  shamefully  their 
power,  and  the  trust  reposed  in  them.  I  will  see  these  things  righted  ere  long,  if  I  am 
to  hold  the  district  as  commander  ;  but  for  a  few  days,  Alice,  take  my  advice,  and  let 
your  park  walls  be  the  limit  of  your  wanderings." 

"  Indeed  I  will,  cousin  Henry,"  she  replied — "  indeed,  I  will  take  your  advice  ;  and 
I  thank  you  for  it.  They  came  and  searched  our  house  last  night,  for  some  one  whom 
they  charged  us  with  concealing,  and  one  of  them,  an  officer — a  singularly  ill  ungracious- 
looking  youth — was  positively  rude  to  me  !" 

"  He  will  not  so  offend  again,  fair  Mistress  Alice,"  answered  the  young  man  ;  "  for 
if,  as  I  doubt  not,  your  friend  was  Cornet  Despard,  I  have  just  sent  him  to  head-quarters 
in  arrest  for  most  unsoldierly  and  brutal  conduct  here  this  morning ;  and  I  will  take 
care  he  is  duly  punished.  But  come,"  he  added,  "  it  seems  to  me  your  visit  of  charity 
and  kindness  is  concluded.  I  was  about  to  ride  down  to  the  Hall  even  now,  to  wait  on 
your  father,  who  signified  to  me  by  letter  a  wish  that  I  would  see  him  touching  this 
business  you  have  mentioned — suffer  me  to  send  on  my  horses,  and  on  foot  escort  you 
homeward." 

"  No  !  thank  you,  cousin,"  answered  Alice,  with  a  smile  ;  "  I  am  playing  Lady 
Bountiful  this  morning,  and  have  to  pay  two  visits  more  to  two  of  my  old  pensioners 
in  the  village.  Since  you  have  driven  these  rude  discourteous  warriors  home,  like  a 
fair  and  gallant  knight,  an  errant  damsel  may  hold  herself  safe  for  this  time.  But,  jesting 
apart,  Henry  ;  I  must  go  a  little  hah0  mile  farther,  and  Jeremy  has  the  key  of  the  small 
postern  gate  beside  the  heronry  wood,  and  I  shall  go  in  by  that  entrance.  So  go  your 
ways,  good  cousin,  and  commune  with  my  father,  and  then  come  join  me  in  the  park. 
You'll  tarry  dinner  with  us — surely  !  nay — I'll  have  no  denial — and  now  I  think  of  it, 
my  father  means,  I  fancy,  to  detain  you  over  night ;  fare  you  well  for  the  present — 
fare  you  well,  dame — here  be  the  simples,  Marian — and  give  your  mother  a  good  cup 
of  the  Canary  straightway ;  poor  soul,  she  needs  some  comfort — fare  you  well  Bella — 
one  kiss,  my  little  Alice  !"  And  among  the  blessings  of  all,  and  the  fervent  thanks  of 
the  old  matron,  in  whose  opinion  Alice  was  an  absolute  angel — too  beautiful  and  good 
for  aught  below — she  vanished  from  the  room,  leaving  it — as  Henry  Chaloner  thought 
— lower  and  darker  and  more  gloomy  than  it  had  ever  seemed  to  him  before  ;  and  after 
a  little  while  he  too,  kaving  paid  his  reckoning,  mounted  his  horse  and  rode  away  slowly 
toward  the  Hall  gates ;  before  reaching  which  he  met  his  servant  coming  up  at  full 
gallop,  the  bearer  of  a  verbal  message  from  Master  Selby,  praying  "  that  Major  General 
Chaloner  would  visit  his  poor  house  with  all  convenient  speed  !" 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

IT  was  at  about  the  same  hour  of  the  same  day  at  which  the  rustic  party  were  inter- 
rupted by  the  arrival  of  the  Ironsides  at  the  Stag's  Head,  that  the  squire  of  Woolverton 
—the  morning  meal  being  finished,  and  all  the  household  busied  about  their  wonted 


avocations — gave  orders  to  the  steward  that  he  should  not  on  any  account  be  disturbed 
for  a  couple  of  hours ;  and,  locking  the  library  door  with  jealous  care  behind  him,  pro- 
ceeded  through  the  secret  passage  to  the  hiding-place  of  his  concealed  guest.  It  was 
perhaps  fortunate  that  the  habits  of  the  old  man,  secluded,  sedentary,  and  averse  to 
much  intercourse  with  man,  were  such  as  to  prevent  any  speculation  or  surprise  at  such 
an  order,  it  being  his  almost  daily  practice  to  shut  himself  up  in  the  pursuit  of  some 
abstruse  and  difficult  study ;  so  that  no  one  of  the  servants  entertained  the  least  suspi- 
cion on  the  subject.  The  greatest  risk  that  Selby  had  discovered  in  the  case  was  the. 
providing  food  for  the  stranger  without  attracting  notice  ;  and  this  he  was  in  fact  only 
able  to  manage  by  robbing  his  own  buttery  nightly,  after  the  people  had  retired  to  rest, 
much  to  the  wonder  and  disquiet  of  the  old  housekeeper,  who  was  continually  missing 
corners  of  venison  pasties,  cold  larded  capons,  remnants  of  neats'  tongues,  and  whole 
loaves  of  bread  ;  for  the  disappearance  of  which  she  could  in  no  wise  account,  and  con- 
cerning which  she  was  perpetually  worrying  and  fidgetting  her  fellow-servants  to  no 
end  or  purpose. 

It  was  then  with  a  basketful  of  cold  provisions,  two  or  three  long-necked  flasks  of 
Bordeaux  wine,  a  fresh  supply  of  oil,  a  change  of  linen,  and  sundry  volumes  of  the 
long-winded  cumbersome  romances  of  that  day,  that  the  old  squire  now  sought  his 
visitor.  With  a  noiseless  step,  and  a  suppressed  breathing,  the  good  old  man  traversed 
the  long  and  darksome  corridors,  now  climbing  steep  and  narrow  stairways,  now  wind- 
ing downward  by  deep  gradual  descents,  turning  short  angles,  and  passing  through 
trap-doors  almost  innumerable,  until  he  reached  the  safe  and  distant  crypt  wherein  he 
had  left  Wyvil  to  his  slumbers  on  the  preceding  night.  So  deep  had  been  those  slum- 
bers, and  so  completely  had  the  young  man  been  over- wrought  by  the  toil,  the  exertions, 
and  the  tremendous  excitement  of  the  previous  days,  that  he  lay  buried  still  in  profound 
and  dreamless  stupor ;  and  it  was  well  that  Selby  had  brought  a  master-key  by  means 
of  which  he  gained  admittance  to  the  cell,  since  not  by  any  signal  that  he  dared  make 
could  he  attract  his  guest's  attention.  Unlocking  the  door  quietly,  he  entered,  and  set- 
ting down  his  load  stepped  lightly  to  the  bedside  ;  the  brazen  lamp  was  burning  steadily 
upon  the  table,  filling  the  whole  of  the  small  room  with  a  smoky  yellow  light,  and 
pouring  full  upon  the  uncurtained  features  of  the  sleeper.  His  clothes,  cast  off  in  neg- 
ligent disarray,  were  heaped  upon  the  stools  and  table  ;  his  rich  buff  coat,  all  laced  with 
tawney  silk  and  looped  with  gold,  hung  on  the  back  of  the  armed  chair,  moist  and  dis- 
colored by  the  waters  of  the  moat,  through  which  the  wearer  had  swam  on  the  previous 
evening ;  his  cuirass  of  bright  steel,  inlaid  with  arabesques  of  gold,  lay  on  the  table, 
sending  back  the  rays  of  the  dull  lamp  in  strong  and  dancing  gleams  of  brighter  lustre  ; 
his  vest  and  trunk-hose  of  murray-colored  velvet,  his  russet  buskins  with  their  long 
gilded  spurs,  and  his  embroidered  slouched  beaver  with  its  black  drooping  plume,  lay 
in  confusion  on  the  stone-paved  floor ;  but  the  blue  baldric  of  his  rapier  was  twined 
round  one  of  the  posts  of  his  pallet  bed,  so  that  the  hilt  was  ready  to  his  hand  at  a  mo. 
ment's  notice;  while,  as  a  fuitlicr  precaution,  he  had  thrust  the  point  of  his  naked 
poniard  into  a  crevice  of  the  headboard,  so  that  it  could  be  griped  with  his  left  hand, 
as  readily  as  the  sword-hilt  with  his  right,  on  the  least  emergency.  Little,  however, 
would  either  weapon  have  availed  him  now,  had  the  intruder  beeu  an  enemy ;  for  he 
still  slept  so  deeply  that  he  might  have  been  slain  easily,  without  the  possibility  of 
making  any  adequate  resistance. 

For  a  few  moments  Mark  Selby  would  not  arouse  him  from  his  state,  as  it  appeared, 
of  absolute  insensibility ;  but  stood  gazing  steadfastly  upon  the  tranquil  lineaments  of 
the  young  sleeper.  Those  lineaments,  which  the  old  man  had  seen  but  imperfectly  the 
night  before,  were  certainly  and  eminently  handsome  :  he  had  a  profusion  of  soft,  silky, 
light-brown  hair,  falling  back  from  his  brow  in  long  straight  masses,  waved  slightly  on 
the  temples,  and  curled  as  it  would  seem  artificially  at  the  extremity  ;  his  forehead  was 
very  high  and  prominent,  but  rather  narrower  at  the  temples  than  below,  which  detracted 
somewhat  from  the  beauty  of  the  feature  ;  it  was,  however,  singularly  white  and  smooth, 
and  perfectly  unwrinkled,  except  that  there  was  a  deep  indentation,  as  if  of  an  habitual 


OR,     THE    MAID5S     REVENGE.  89 

frown,  at  the  inner  point  of  the  eyebrows,  which  were  straight  and  well  defined,  of  a 
color  several  degrees  darker  than  his  hair.  His  eyes,  as  could  be  seen  even  while  he 
slept  by  the  form  and  dimensions  of  the  lids,  were  large  and  well  opened,  and  fringed 
with  long  black  lashes ;  his  nose  was  thin  and  somewhat  sharply,  though  not  highly, 
aquiline  ;  his  mouth,  which  by  its  firm  compression  and  set  downward  curve,  bespoke 
decision  of  character  and  absolute  hardihood,  had  yet  an  expression  of  voluptuousness  in 
the  full  prominent  under  lip,  and  in  the  fleshy  curvature  of  the  projecting  chin ;  and  the 
combination  of  the  whole  was,  as  has  been  already  said,  sufficient  to  constitute  a  face  of 
decided  and  unusual  attractiveness.  The  coloring  was  rich  and  manly ;  a  complexion, 
which  had  been  naturally  very  fair  and  florid,  having  been  darkened  by  exposure  to  the 
weather  into  a  ripe  and  mellow  brown,  which  suited  well  the  narrow  dark  mustache 
which  he  wore  on  the  upper  lip,  and  the  small  Vandyke  beard  trimmed  into  the  fashion 
of  a  fleur-de-lis,  with  two  small  upward  curls  and  long  point  between;  giving  a  soldier- 
like and  manly  air  to  a  countenance,  which  without  it  might  have  been  termed  effemi- 
nate, from  the  smallness  and  delicacy  of  all  the  separate  features,  rather  than  from  any 
real  want  of  energy  or  character  in  the  expression. 

It  may  as  well  be  stated  here,  although  Mark  Selby  saw  them  not  at  present,  that  his 
eyes  were  of  a  full  dark  blue,  and  that  his  mouth  was  filled  by  a  set  of  teeth  as  regular 
and  white  and  pearly  as  were  ever  set  off  by  the  coral  lips  of  the  loveliest  woman.  As 
the  old  man  gazed  on  the  comely  features,  he  certainly  thought  that  he  had  never  seen  a 
handsomer  man,  nor  one  with  a  more  bland  and  beautiful  expression ;  yet  much  of  this 
last  appearance  was  factitious  merely,  and  depended  on  the  present  situation  of  the 
sleeper,  who,  completely  overcome  with  toil,  was  sunk  in  the  voluptuous  and  calm  tran- 
quility  of  the  deepest  and  most  dreamless  sleep.  Had  he  been  awake,  however,  while 
he  would  have  admitted  the  beauty  even  perhaps  more  fully  than  at  present,  the  squire 
would  not  have  discovered  by  any  means  the  same  attraction  in  his  aspect,  nor  drawn 
the  same  conclusions  with  regard  to  his  character.  He  would  then  have  perceived — as 
did  all  persons  who  thought  upon  the  subject,  until  their  judgment  was  overpowered  by 
the  fascinations  of  the  young  cavalier's  demeanor — that  there  was  an  unpleasant  look, 
a  look  of  extreme  audacious  boldness,  in  the  bright  sparkling  eye,  and  moreover  a  wa- 
vering, changeful,  vacillating  glance,  indicative  of  a  fickleness  if  not  feebleness  of  pur- 
pose, and  remarkably  at  variance  with  the  resolved  and  even  obstinate  expression  of  the 
mouth ;  and  he  would  moreover  have  detected  something  hollow  and  almost  mocking 
in  the  style  of  the  smooth  dulcet  smile  which  was  continually  playing  about  the  half 
open  lips,  and  revealing  the  pearly  teeth  within.  None  of  these  drawbacks  to  the  ap- 
pearance of  Wyvil  were  at  this  time  perceptible,  nor  were  they  indeed  ever  discovered 
in  their  true  light  by  Selby ;  for  he  was  now  so  strongly  prepossessed  by  the  features 
of  the  sleeper,  wrapt  as  they  were  in  soft  and  placid  languor,  that  he  retained  the  first 
favorable  impression  afterwards,  and,  becoming  very  soon  habituated  to  the  man,  thought 
no  more  of  his  appearance.  While  he  looked  on,  however,  the  character  of  his  guest's 
repose  was  altered ;  a  shadow  flitted  over  the  fair  tranquil  lineaments — a  dark,  frowning 
shadow — and  anon  the  sweat  broke  out  upon  his  brow  in  large  and  beaded  bubbles ; 
he  writhed  his  limbs  to  and  fro  with  a  convulsive  motion,  and  grinded  his  set  teeth  with 
a  fierce  energy. 

Short  inarticulate  sounds  came  struggling  from  his  lips,  and  at  last  the  listener  heard 
him  mutter :  "  Over !  it  is  all  over !"  and  again,  after  another  violent  struggle,  flinging 
his  right  hand  abroad  violently,  and  clutching  the  bed-clothes  with  a  stern  savage  gripe, 
"  I  have  thee  by  the  throat,  dog !  damned  dog  !  Plead  not — plead  not  to  me  for  mercy ! 
thou  did'st  stab  Musgrave  in  cold  blood,  when  he  had  yielded  him  a  prisoner !  Ha, 
ha !  plead  not  to  me  !"  He  fumbled  with  his  left  hand  impotently  in  the  bed,  as  ifrhe 
were  grappling  for  a  weapon,  and  then,  still  maintaining  the  death  gripe,  as  he  thought, 
with  his  right,  "  How  the  dog  struggles !"  he  continued.  "  Plague  on't,  I've  lost  my 
dagger.  Here,  Edgar — Edgar  Beavan — run  me  thy  rapier  through  this  hound,  or  blow 
his  brains  out,  while  I  hold  him !  Ha !  ha !"  he  added  furiously,  h,s  whole  face  kindled 
with  a  wild  fiery  glare — "  ha !  down  with  thee  to  hell  J  and  there  boast  of  his  murder  I 


40  MARMADTTKEWYVIL; 

Ha!  ha1  ha!  ha-ha!"  and  he  burst  into  a  fit  of  convulsive  savage  laughter,  which 
gradually  died  away,  and  left  him  again  all  relaxed  and  dreamless. 

"  Poor  youth !  alack,  poor  youth !"  murmured  the  good  old  man ;  "  how  fearfully  the 
dread  strife  and  the  death-grapple  darkens  his  fresh  unhardened  -spirit.  God  pardon 
him  the  sin  of  blood-shedding — since  surely  he  did  strike  for  the  right  cause !  Lo !  he 
frowns  now  again,  and  the  cold  sweat  wells  out  at  every  pore." 

"  Charge  !  charge  I"  muttered  the  sleeper,  interrupting  the  tenor  of  his  meditations. 
"  Charge  once  more — kill !  kill !  kill !  no  quarter  to  the  rebel  dogs !  the  damned  blood- 
drinking  roundheads !" 

"  Ay  !  he  is  in  the  very  agony  of  the  hot  heady  fight.  I  will  awake  him ;"  and  suit- 
ing, as  he  spoke,  the  action  to  the  word,  he  laid  his  hand  lightly  on  the  arm  of  the 
sleeper.  It  was  like  the  work  of  magic ;  for  scarcely  did  the  old  man's  finger  touch 
the  wrist  of  Wyvil  before  he  started  up,  unsheathing  his  rapier  with  one  hand,  and 
snatching  the  poniard  with  the  other ;  and  stood  erect  upon  the  floor,  with  eye,  hand, 
foot  on  the  alert  in  posture  of  defence.  It  was  scarcely  a  second  since  he  was  strug- 
gling in  the  visions  of  his  tortured  sleep  upon  the  bloody  banks  of  the  Team,  and  now 
he  was  in  the  full  possession  of  his  senses,  cool,  self-collected — armed  in  mind  and 
body,  prepared  for  any  fortune. 

'A  quiet  smile  crossed  the  fine  face  of  the  old  squire,  and  fading  away  instantly,  left 
a  grave  and  even  sad  expression  in  its  place,  as  he  addressed  the  youthful  cavalier. 

"  Nay,  nay !  it  is  no  foe  ;  nor  have  you  any  need  of  weapons — " 

"  Ha !  my  kind  host,"  the  other  interrupted  him,  lowering  the  point  of  his  sword  as 
he  spoke.  "  I  crave  your  pardon  :  I  saw  not  that  it  was  you." 

"  You  slept  in  truth  heavily,"  replied  Selby ;  "  and  your  slumbers  were  so  disturbed 
and  restless,  that  I  had  the  less  hesitation  in  arousing  you.  Besides,  I  have  much  to 
say  to  you.  In  the  first  place,  I  have  brought  you  food,  and  wine,  and  raiment,  and 
all  appliances  to  make  your  toilet ;  some  books,  moreover,  and  oil  for  your  lamp.  Here 
is  a  little  charcoal  likewise,  and  there  should  be  a  brazier  somewhere — ay !  here  it  is 
in  the  corner ;  best  make  yourself  a  fire  forthwith,  and  dry  your  dripping  garments. 
But  first  I  must  require  you  to  plight  me  your  sacred  oath  of  honor,  never  by  any  means 
to  publish  or  divulge  to  any  living  creature  the  secret  of  your  hiding-place  !" 

"  I  were  ungrateful  else,  and  base  indeed,"  replied  Wyvil ;  and  laying  his  hand  on 
his  heart,  he  continued :  "  Most  solemnly  I  plight  my  sacred  honor,  never  by  word  or 
deed,  by  sign  or  hint  or  writing,  to  reveal  aught  that  you  shall  show  to  me  in  further- 
ance of  my  escape  and  safety ;  and  should  I  ever,  or  by  any  chance,  forget  this  pledge 
hereafter,  so  may  God  forget  me  even  at  my  utmost  need !" 

"  No  more  !"  said  Selby,  taking  him  by  the  hand — "  no  more  !  nor  had  I  asked  even 
this,  but  that  it  is  enjoined  on  me  to  do  so.  Never  must  these  things  be  revealed  to 
any,  save  the  head  of  the  house  and  his  next  heir,  but  in  the  case  of  extreme  peril,  and 
then  under  the  sanction  of  an  oath.  This  then  sufficeth.  Now  tell  me,  sir,  what  hopes 
you  have  of  aid  from  without?" 

"  None,  presently  !"  answered  the  youth.  "  If  I  could  but  reach  France,  I  might  do 
well ;  for  on  the  outbreak  of  the  war,  and  since  at  many  times,  I  have  remitted  thither 
much  jewelry  and  gold.  But  how  to  reach  the  coast,  or  when  there  to  get  shipping, 
in  truth  I  know  not." 

"  And  have  you  no  friends  anywhere,  whom  you  might  trust — nor  any  faithful  agent  ? 
We  may  conceal  you  here,  it  is  true,  for  a  time ;  but  every  hour,  nay,  minute,  will 
increase  the  hazard.  Suspicion  is  awake  already,  and  I  might  say  peril  is  around  us !" 

"  No  friends — no  friends,  at  least,  who  could  assist  me !  but  there  is  one,  a  secret 
agerft  of  the  king's  partisans,  though  deemed  a  spy  in  the  pay  of  Cromwell — known  as 
the  peddler  Bertram ;  if  I  could  make  him  know  my  case,  if  any  man  could  do  it,  he 
would  effect — " 

"  I  know  the  man,"  interrupted  Selby—"  I  know  the  man,  but  only  as  a  travelling 
trader.  I  know  him,  and  it  may  be  can  discover  him  ere  many  days ;  but  are  you  sure 
fce  may  be  trusted  ?" 


OR,     THE     MAID'S     REVENGE.  41 

"No  man  in  these  times  can  be  sure  of  any  one !"  Wyvil  answered,  after  a  moment's 
thought,  "  but  I  dare  trust  myself  with  him.  He  has  been  often  tried  and  trusted,  and 
so  far  has  proved  always  faithful." 

"  I  will  proceed  straightway  to  have  him  sought  out — as  far  as  may  be,  we  will 
secure  his  faith — not  paying  him  a  crown  till  you  are  safe  on  shipboard." 

"  That  will  not  avail  anything ;  Bartram,  as  he  is  called — for  that  is  not  his  name  in 
sooth — takes  no  reward  from  cavaliers." 

"  That  speaks  well  for  his  trust  at  least !  I'll  see  to  it — now,  mark  me  ;  I  do  not  doubt, 
but  that  search  will  be  made  again  to-morrow — or  to-day — nor  do  I  very  much  doubt 
but  that,  if  one  I  know  conducts  the  search,  this  chamber  will  be  readily  discovered. 
So  many  of  the  old  houses  have  similar  contrivances,  which  have  by  chance  or  treachery 
or  acute  wit  of  the  searchers,  been  discovered,  that  they  have  got  the  trick  of  them — 
and  this,  although  not  altogether  easy,  is  by  no  means  to  be  considered  as  impregnable ; 
it  hath,  however,  further  secrets.  First  let  me  tell  you,  there  is  no  lack  of  fresh  air  here, 
although  there  be  no  windows — for  everywhere  throughout  the  thickness  of  the  walls 
there  have  been  framed  long  winding  spiracles,  else  were  it  unsafe  to  burn  charcoal. 
Now,  Captain  Wyvil,  mark  every  word  I  say,  for  it  may  be  your  life  depends  on  your 
clear  memory.  There  is  a  strange  contrivance  here;  a  long  metallic  tube  framed  like  a 
trumpet,  but  with  ten  times  the  power — one  whisper  at  the  farther  end  fills  all  this 
chamber  with  a  reverberating  din,  that  would  awake  the  soundest  sleeper  though  he 
were  drugged  with  opium.  By  this  tube  notice  shall  be  given  you  ere  any  search  com- 
mences — an  hour,  at  the  least,  must  elapse,  ere  any  one  except  myself  or  Alice  could 
reach  this  central  hold ;  but  notwithstanding,  when  you  shall  hear  that  sound,  make  no 
delay — for  be  assured  there  will  be  desperate  peril.  If,  when  they  search  this  spot,  they 
shall  find  any  signs  of  recent  occupation,  be  sure  that  you  are  lost !  with  you  it  rests,  to 
keep  all  things  so  ordered,  that  they  shall  be  in  place  as  though  not  touched  for  months. 
Pile  all  the  furniture  together :  leave  not  a  scrap  of  food,  nor  a  drop  of  wine,  to  tell 
tales,  in  any  drinking  glass — heap  the  books  on  the  highest  shelf — and  lo !  here  is  a  bag 
of  dust  and  rubbish  and  old  feathers — shake  this  out  freely  over  all — tie  the  wine-flasks 
and  lamps,  and  all  else  that  might  create  surmise,  to  the  leaden  weight  and  hook  which 
lie  by  the  trap-door  I  showed  you,  and  sink  them  in  the  water — do  this  as  speedily  as 
may  be,  and  then  fly  !  And,  now  I  think  of  it,  keep  no  fire  any  more  in  the  brazier, 
when  you  have  dried  your  raiment — so,  I  doubt  not,  we  may  frustrate  their  expecta- 
tions that  would  work  us  evil." 

"  But  how,  or  whither  must  I  fly  ?  I  see  no  means  at  all,  nor  any — " 

"We  will  waste  no  time,  Captain  Wyvil,"  answered  Selby,  "but  you  will  follow  me, 
so  please  you ;"  and  with  these  words  he  unlocked  both  doors,  which  had  remained  un- 
opened the  preceding  night;  and  entering  that  nearest  to  the  stairs,  by  which  lay  the 
descent  to  the  well  and  trap,  was  followed  closely  by  the  young  cavalier,  whose  attention 
had  been  firmly  rivetted  on  every  syllable  the  old  man  uttered. 

The  greater  part  of  an  hour  had  elapsed,  before  they  returned ;  and  when  they  did  so 
it  was  by  the  other  passage,  so  that  it  was  apparent  that  Marmaduke  had  now  been  made 
acquainted  with  all  the  different  modes  of  egress  from  his  friendly  prison-house.  They 
were  both  somewhat  pale,  and  the  lamps  which  they  bore  burned  very  blue  and  dim, 
and  all  their  clothes  were  soiled  in  many  places,  and  besmirched  with  much  green 
mould — the  old  man  was  moreover  so  much  exhausted,  that  he  set  down  for  a  while  in 
the  arm-chair,  panting  and  seemingly  quite  overwrought  by  the  fatigue,  and  the  bad 
atmosphere  he  had  imbibed  in  traversing  the  gloomy  vaults  and  corridors  of  that  dark 
labyrinth. 

After  a  few  moments'  rest,  however,  he  filled  himself  a  beaker  of  the  generous  wine 
of  Bordeaux,  and  pushing  the  flask  across  the  board  to  Wyvil,  motioned  him  to  fill  up, 
and  emptied  his  glass  at  a  single  draught. 

"Well  now,"  he  said,  "remember,  I  beseech  you,  the  clue  in  the  right  hand  passage 
is  the  number  three !  to  the  right  throughout — every  third  turning  to  the  right ! — those  to 
the  left,  and  all  the  others  are  but  false  turnings  and  deceptions.  In  the  left  hand  it  ia 


42  MARMADTTKEWYVIL; 

five ;  now,  if  the  alarm  be  by  day,  neither  of  these  are  very  safe !  both  opening  as  they 
do  in  the  clear  country!  by  night  it  matters  not  much  which  you  take,  but  be  careful 
that  there  be  no  one  watching,  ere  you  issue  out.  If  then  the  alarm  be  by  day,  you 
were  best  try  the  other,  and  tarry  there  until  you  hear  the  signal.  Now  then,  give  me 
your  hand— farewell.  I  may  not  now  wait  longer,  lest  I  be  missed.  Alice  or  I  will 
visit  you  this  evening — and  now,  young  man  consider — I  would  have  you — and  weigh 
well  the  vast  trust  I  repose  in  you — a  very  stranger — all  for  pure  charity  and  my  own 
sense  of  duty  !  my  own  and  daughter's  life !  my  own  and  daughter's  honor !  no  more,  sir 
— one  word  is  enough!  no  answer,  I  beseech  you — and  above  all,  no  protestation! 
Deeds,  my  good  friend — deeds  done  hereafter  will  outstrip  a  whole  ton  of  words  at  the 
present.  God  bless  you,  and  farewell !"  and  saying  thus,  he  left  him  quite  abruptly ; 
and,  locking  the  door  after  him,  hurried  away  with  all  speed  to  his  own  private  study. 

Well  was  it  that  he  did  make  haste ;  for  he  had  not  been  there  ten  minutes,  and  had 
but  just  replaced  the  volumes  which  concealed  the  spring  upon  the  bookshelves,  adjusted 
his  disordered  dress,  and  seated  himself,  pen  in  hand,  at  his  desk,  when  a  quick  footstep 
without  followed  immediately  the  slamming  of  a  distant  door ;  and  was  succeeded  by 
a  tap  on  the  panel,  and  the  voice  of  a  domestic  announcing  the  arrival  of  a  messenger 
bearing  a  letter  with  dispatch  from  Major  General  Henry  Chaloner. 

Risine:  instantly,  with  his  pen  still  in  his  fingers  wet  with  the  ink  into  which  he  had 
the  presence  of  mind  to  dip  it  for  the  purpose ;  Selby  unlocked  the  door,  and  received 
the  note  with  an  explanation  that  the  bearer  had  been  detained  an  hour  or  better,  no 
servant  having  ventured  to  disturb  him  until  the  time  should  arrive  which  he  himself  had 
specified. 

"  It  is  well,"  answered  he,  when  he  had  read  the  hasty  scroll ;  "  then  will  I  not  delay 
him  any  longer.  Bid  him  say  to  his  master,  Launcelot,  that  Master  Selby  greets  him, 
and  will  rejoice  to  see  him  at  his  own  good  convenience !"  The  man  bowed,  and  with- 
drew ;  and  the  old  man  seated  himself  again  quietly,  and  after  a  moment's  thought — 
"Ha!"  he  said,  "ha! — now  comes  the  trial!"  and  without  any  further  meditation,  or 
any  sign  of  care,  he  took  up  the  Eumenides  of  jEschylus,  turned  to  the  difficult  and 
obscure  chorus  at  the  876th  line ;  and  read,  and  methodized,  and  made  notes  as  he  went  on, 
some  in  the  margin  of  the  volume  itself,  and  some  in  a  large  brass-bound  vellum-covered 
book,  labelled  "  Ephemeris  Classica  Variorum,"  as  tranquilly  as  though  he  had  nothing 
of  more  immediate  or  pressing  urgency  upon  his  mind,  than  the  emendation  of  a  corrupt 
reading,  or  the  restoration  of  the  true  text.  It  was  not  affectation — it  was  not  even  the 
result  of  an  effort — he  yielded  to  the  force  of  ancient  habit,  and  in  five  minutes  after  the 
man  had  left  him,  was  completely  wrapped  up  in  his  subject,  mindful  of  archaeology 
alone,  and  utterly  forgetful  of  all  sublunary  matters ;  and  so  remained,  until  he  was  again 
aroused  to  consideration  of  earthly  things,  by  the  announcement  of  his  cousin  Chaloner. 
Of  a  truth  was  it  said,  that  we  are  fearfully  and  wonderfully  made ! 


CHAPTER   IX. 

FOR  two  hours  at  the  least  did  Henry  Chaloner  remain  closely  engaged  in  deep  and 
painful  conversation  with  his  ancient  relative,  who,  understanding  well  his  difficult  and 
delicate  position,  appreciated  fully  his  considerate  kindness.  Henry  did  not  affect  for  a 
moment  to  conceal  from  him  his  opinion  that  the  young  cavalier  was  secreted  some- 
where on  the  premises  of  Woolverton — nor  did  he  pretend  to  disapprove  the  motives 
which  had  led  to  such  concealment,  however  much  he  might  regret  the  consequences 
which  he  considered  likely  to  arise  therefrom.  He  showed  the  proclamation  to  Mark 
Selby,  and  did  not  hesitate  to  confess  his  own  dislike  to  the  duty  imposed  upon  him, 
and  his  sincere  wish  that  the  young  fugitive  might  escape ;  until  such  times  as  the 
Government  should  be  induced  to  remit  spmewhat,  of  what  he  termed  their  cruel  and 
unchristian  rigor. 


OR,     THE     MAID'S     REVENGE.  43 

"At  the  same  time  ;"  he  said,  "  I  have  but  the  choice  of  two  alternatives — to  resign 
my  commission  and  the  command  of  this  district,  or  to  perform  with  strict  accuracy  all 
the  duties  thereby  laid  upon  me.  To  resign,  at  present,"  he  continued,  "  I  do  not  think 
advisable,  not  as  regards  myself — for  that  of  course  I  should  not  at  all  consider — but  as 
regards  the  welfare  of  the  country ;  for  should  I  do  so,  some  other  would  be  at  once  ap- 
pointed, who  would,  it  is  most  likely,  be  harsher  ami  more  rigorous  than  I ;  and  much 
harm  might  well  come  of  it.  Now,  cousin  Selby,  I  am  not,  as  you  know,  a  man  of 
many  words  or  large  professions,  wherefore  I  shall  go  straight  to  the  point.  I  believe 
the  young  man  to  be  here,  and,  in  fact,  I  am  forced  so  to  believe  by  these  documents ;" 
and  he  laid  the  papers  he  had  received  the  night  before  on  the  desk  as  he  spoke.  "  I 
hope  sincerely  I  may  be  mistaken — or,  if  not  mistaken,  that  I  may  be  unable  to  discover 
where  you  have  hidden  him — for  it  is  very  sure  that  it  will  go  very  hardly  with  you,  if 
he  shall  be  discovered  here.  I  will  do  all  in  my  power,  should  such  be  the  case — as  I 
am  sure  I  need  not  promise  you — to  smooth  the  matter,  and  hope  I  may  be  able  through 
Cromwell  to  provide  your  safety ;  but,  I  speak  plainly  cousin,  with  all  this  evidence  be- 
fore me,  I  must  order  a  search — I  must  send  for  a  detachment  of  the  soldiers,  to 
Low  Barnsley,  which  is  their  nearest  station ;  and  I  must — and  pray  believe  me  that  I 
will — exert  every  faculty  I  may  possess,  to  capture  the  young  man.  I  ask  you  no 
questions  nor  wish  to  hear  any  answers,  and  I  will  not  allow  yourself  or  Mistress  Alice 
to  be  at  all  interrogated.  For  the  rest  I  must  do  my  duty,  and  you  will  not,  I  am  sure, 
think  hardly  of  me,  for  so  doing.  I  shall  send  off  a  messenger  forthwith  to  Keating, 
with  orders  to  bring  hither  two  troops  of  the  Ironsides  to-morrow,  at  daybreak ;  till 
then  I  will  remain  with  you,  myself,  if  you  will  give  me  quarters,  and  you  will  not,  I 
fancy,  find  me  a  difficult  or  troublesome  inquisitor !" 

"  Oh!  you  are  quite  right,  cousin,  you  are  quite  right  in  one  thing;"  answered  Seiby, 
laughing  good-humoredly — "you  are  quite  right  in  one  thing,  though  very  wrong  indeed 
in  another.  You  must  search  the  premises,  that  is  quite  clear ;  I  knew  that  from  the 
very  first — and,  indeed,  I  rather  desire  it,  than  otherwise — for  I  suppose  when  it  is  done 
and  over,  I  shall  be  left  in  peace ;  and  until  it  is  done  by  some  one  in  authority,  I  shall 
have  no  rest  at  all,  but  shall  be  worried  day  and  night  by  these  redcoated  gentry ;  and 
you  know,  Henry,  I'm  not  very  fond  of  worthies  of  your  cloth.  You  must  search  the 
house,  and  the  more  strictly  the  better ;  for  then  you  will  be  satisfied  yourself,  and  will 
be  able  to  satisfy  others — so  far  you  are  quite  right !  but  very  wrong  indeed,  I  do  assure 
you,  when  you  imagine  that  you  shall  find  any  one  hidden  here !  for  you  will  not,  Henry — 
you  will  not,  I  can  tell  you — how  carefully  you  may  search  soever,  and  however  much 
you  may  suspect  it !  Of  course,  I  shall  rejoice  to  have  you  stay  with  me,  and  so  will 
Alice.  She  hath  gone  forth  this  morning  to  the  village,  to  carry  some  medicaments,  I 
fancy,  and  some  dainties  to  the  poor  old  souls  down  there ;  but  she'll  be  home  to  dinner ; 
and  after  you  have  searched  to-morrow,  if  you  will  ride  out  with  her  and  see  Gilbert 
Falconer's  long-winged  Norroway  hawks  fly  at  a  heronshaw,  you'll  please  the  girl,  and 
the  honest  knave  too — in  good  faith  you  will — but  for  me,  I  care  not  for  such  toys  1" 

"  Well,  well !"  said  Chaloner,  "  I  trust  it  may  be  as  you  say,  for  if  I  do  not  find  any- 
body,  it  will,  of  course,  be  all  over,  whether  there  be  anybody  here  or  no !  but  I  beseech 
you  do  not  depend  too  much  upon  the  secrecy  of  your  devices.  I  have  seen  many  of 
your  old  houses,  and  know  the  general  plan  of  their  concealments.  From  this  very  room, 
I  dare  say,  if  it  were  well  examined,  some  avenue  might  be  discovered ;  but  as  you  say 
so,  I  dare  say  I  shall  find  no  one,  and  I  am  sure  I  hope  so.  Now,  if  you  will  permit  me, 
I  will  write  a  brief  order  to  Colonel  Keating,  to  march  hither  a  squadron  or  two  of  horse 
to-morrow  at  daybreak — one  of  my  fellows  can  ride  over  with  it  now,  and  I  will  tell  the 
others  not  to  mount  guard  exactly,  but  to  keep  a  peaceful  watch  on  all  that  is  going  on 
to-night.  Your  people,  it  will  be  needful  to  interrogate  to-morrow." 

"  You  will  get  nothing,  Henry,  out  of  them,  I  promise  you — meanwhile  do  just  as  you 
will,  till  one  of  the  clock,  when  we  dine  in  the  Hall  below ;  if  your  own  horses  be 
tired,  send  one  of  mine,  good  Henry." 

My  horses  are  quite  fresh,"  answered  Chaloner,  as  he  removed  toward  the  writing 


44  MARMADTTKEWYVIL; 

table ;  "  and  now  I  will  write  to  Colonel  Keating  without  delay;  and  walk  out — when  I 
have  dispatched  a  fellow  with  it — to  join  Alice  in  the  park ;  I  met  her  at  the  Stag's 
Head  as  I  came  and  wished  then  to  escort  her  homeward ;  but  she  was  going  farther, 
and  bade  me  join  her  in  the  park,  when  I  had  finished  talking  with  you,  down  by  the 
heronry  wood." 

It  did  not  occupy  the  young  soldier  many  moments  to  finish  the  official  note,  and  shak- 
ing his  cousin  affectionately  by  the  hand,  whom  he  both  respected  and  loved,  as  being 
the  nearest  relative  he  had  on  earth — his  mother  having  died  within  a  year  of  his  birth, 
and  his  father  not  having  long  survived  her — he  put  on  his  hat,  and  sauntered  slowly 
through  the  long  suite  of  rooms ;  now  pausing  to  admire  some  rare  painting  or  antique 
statue ;  now  gazing  out  of  the  windows,  across  the  courtyard  and  the  moat,  over  the 
sunny  park,  which  he  could  see  stretching  away  for  a  mile  and  a  half  in  length  till  it 
was  bounded  by  the  heronry  wood,  and  the  deep  narrow  river — a  rich  and  beautiful 
perspective.  He  was,  indeed,  now  in  a  very  different  mood  from  that  in  which  he 
paced  the  parlor  floor  of  the  Stag's  Head;  for  the  unconcerned  manner  of  the  squire, 
and  his  reiterated  assertion  that  no  person  would  be  found  concealed  in  the  Hall,  had 
produced,  and  very  naturally  too — for  he  well  knew  the  strict  probity  and  truth  of  the 
old  man — a  strong  impression  on  his  mind  ;  and  though  he  had  observed,  that  Master 
Selby  did  not  positively  deny  the  concealment,  or  assert  that  there  was  no  one  hidden, 
he  was  considerably  tempted  to  believe  that  such  was  the  case.  Indeed,  the  very  fact 
of  his  finding  Alice  so  far  abroad,  and  seemingly  so  unconscious,  had,  at  the  moment, 
somewhat  shaken  his  opinions;  and  now,  when  he  recurred  in  his  thoughts  to  her  calm 
smile  and  fearless  unembarrassed  air,  he  could  not  believe  her  privy  to  any  scheme  of  peril. 

As  he  reached  the  oaken  staircase,  and  passed  slowly  round  the  gallery  on  which  it 
opened,  he  caught  through  the  tall  gothic  window  another  view  of  the  grounds  in  the 
opposite  direction ;  a  view  of  much  greater  extent,  including  nearly  three  miles  of  open 
lawns  with  belts  of  timber  trees,  and  deep  withdrawing  dells  between  them  ;  these  lying 
broad  and  fair  in  the  mellow  noontide  lustre,  those  full  of  cool  blue  shadows,  with  here 
and  there  a  rippling  reach  of  the  stream  flashing  among  the  thickets — all  terminated  far 
off  to  the  westward  by  the  park  wall,  and  the  gigantic  range  of  elms,  which  screened  it 
from  the  road.  It  was  but  a  passing  glance  that  he  threw  over  the  lovely  landscape  ; 
for  he  had  marked  it  oftentimes  before,  and  was  familiar  with  its  beauties ;  but  even  in 
that  transient  glance,  his  eye  was  arrested  by  two  moving  figures  far  off  in  the  distance, 
which,  distant  as  they  were,  he  recognized  for  Alice  and  her  old  attendant. 

The  sight  quickened  his  movements,  and  he  ran  down  the  broad  easy  steps,  calling 
to  his  men  as  he  descended;  so  that  one  of  them  met  him  from  a  side  door  as  he  reached 
the  little  hall  at  the  stair-foot.  He  was  not  engaged  half  a  minute  in  giving  instructions, 
in  his  own  clear  and  precise  method,  to  the  servant — but  passed  onward  immediately 
through  the  paved  court  and  formal  garden  to  the  gate-house,  intending  to  join  Alice 
within  a  few  minutes  at  the  farthest.  But  very  variable  indeed,  and  uncertain  are  the 
intents  and  resolutions  of  mankind,  and  very  liable  to  interruption  even  when  they 
appear  the  least  so — and  thus  it  proved  in  this  instance  ;  for  in  the  first  place,  an  old 
woman,  the  wife  of  the  porter,  who  had  known  him  from  his  childhood  upward,  came 
tottering  out  from  the  lodge,  and  detained  him  a  short  time  by  a  series  of  silly  and  dis- 
jointed, but  kindly  meant,  interrogations,  which  it  was  not  in  the  heart  of  Chaloner  to 
treat  with  neglect  or  coldness;  and  then,  when  he  had  got  rid  of  this  annoyance,  and 
issued  into  the  road  through  the  park,  whom  should  he  see  trotting  up  the  avenue,  but 
stout  John  Sherlock,  on  Wyvil's  coal-black  charger  ?  In  a  moment  he  remembered, 
how  he  had  directed  the  good  yeoman  to  wait  and  speak  with  him ;  and  how,  forget- 
ting all  about  what  he  had  wished  to  say,  he  had  ridden  off  afterwards,  leaving  him 
asleep  under  the  oak  tree.  Again  therefore  he  was  obliged  to  pause  in  common  courtesy ; 
but  he  contrived  to  learn  from  honest  John  all  that  he  had  to  tell  concerning  the  horse, 
the  place  he  had  found  him,  and  his  intention  of  consulting  master  Selby  as  to  the  wisest 
method  of  disposing  of  him,  without  the  loss  of  much  more  than  a  quarter  of  an  hour ; 
and  then  at  length,  having  expressed  his  approbation  of  the  worthy  fanner's  conduct,  he 
»et  forth  in  good  earnest  to  join  his  beautiful  cousin. 


OR,    THE    MAID'S    REVENGE.  45 

"  How  tiresome,"  said  he  within  himself,  as  he  proceeded  on  his  way — "  how  tire, 
some  that  I  should  lose  so  much  time  ;  she  will  be  well  nigh  home,  ere  this,  and  I  shall 
get  no  opportunity  of  talking  with  her  after  all !"  but  at  the  same  time  he  stepped  out  at 
the  top  of  his  speed,  and  had  soon  passed  over  two-thirds  at  least  of  the  distance  between 
the  house  and  the  spot  where,  from  the  windows,  he  had  seen  Alice  half  an  hour  before . 
When  he  had  come  thus  far,  without  discovering  any  signs  of  her  he  sought,  or  hearing 
any  sound  of  her  voice,  although  he  stopped  and  listened  once  or  twice,  he  began  to 
grow  weary  lest  he  should  have  taken  a  wrong  path  and  missed  her  ;  for  it  seemed  to 
him  that  she  ought  to  have  been  at  least  so  far  on  her  way  homeward,  if  no  farther. 

The  spot  on  which  he  stood,  as  he  thought  thus,  was  in  the  bottom  of  a  gently  sloping 
dell,  planted  with  tall  old  beeches,  quite  free  from  any  underwood,  and  carpeted,  wher- 
ever the  shadow  of  the  thick  foliage  had  not  overpowered  its  growth,  by  soft  and  moesy 
greenwood.  At  this  point  the  path,  which  he  had  followed  hitherto,  separated  into  two 
branches — one  leading  straight  on  to  the  postern  of  which  Alice  had  spoken,  and  the 
other  winding  away  to  the  left  hand  toward  the  fishing-houses.  Both  of  these  paths,  as 
he  well  knew,  crossed  the  river  on  narrow  rustic  bridges  at  a  few  paces  distance  only, 
and  wound  through  thickets  and  plantations  so  tortuously  that  it  was  not  possible  to  see 
a  person  till  you  were  quite  close  up  with  them.  While  he  was  deliberating  which  of 
the  two  branches  he  had  now  better  follow,  a  sound  reached  his  ears,  which  sent  the 
blood  rushing  through  all  his  veins  like  torrents  of  hot  lava — a  long  shrill  piercing 
shriek — another !  and  another !  in  the  well-known  tones  of  the  sweet  girl,  of  whom  he  was 
in  search.  The  cries  proceeded  evidently  from  the  direction  of  the  postern,  and  uttering 
a  shout  in  answer,  he  dashed  forward  through  the  trees,  with  speed  scarcely  inferior  to 
that  of  a  hunted  stag.  A  few  bounds  earned  him  across  the  little  hollow,  and  up  the 
acclivity  beyond  it ;  and  before  him  lay  the  stream  wheeling  on,  dark  and  deep,  but 
very  narrow — not  above  twenty  feet  at  the  utmost — between  steep  banks,  spanned  by 
the  single  log  which  formed  the  foot-bridge.  On  the  farther  side  was  a  strong  bridge 
covered  with  stunted  evergreens,  and  over  that  another  small  ravine  feathered  with 
underwood  and  tufts  of  furze  and  broom,  into  which  the  path  divided  abruptly.  Hence, 
as  it  seemed  to  him,  the  voice  proceeded  ;  and  with  another  shout,  which  to  his  great 
surprise  was  answered  faintly  from  behind  him,  he  ran  across  the  rugged  arch,  climbed 
the  steep  rocky  brow,  and  plunged  into  the  dell  half  frantic  with  excitement. 

Scarcely,  however,  had  hf  made  ten  steps  beyond  the  summit,  before  a  sight  met  his 
eyes  which  would,  if  anything,  have  forced  him  from  his  self  control.  In  the  very 
bottom  of  the  glen,  prostrate  upon  the  ground,  with  a  tall  ragged  ruffian  furiously  and 
unmercifully  belaboring  him  about  the  head  with  what  resembled  greatly  the  truncheon 
of  a  broken  pike,  lay  the  old  servant  Jeremy  ;  and  a  little  farther  off—just  where  the 
ground  rose  on  the  other  side,  in  the  violent  gripe  of  two  savage-looking  men,  who  by 
their  dresses,  were  evidently  disbanded  desperate  wanderers  from  the  roi  al  army — as 
pale  as  death,  and  trembling  in  every  limb,  stood  Alice  Selby. 

One  of  the  wretches,  who  held  her  tightly  grasped  by  one  delicate  wrist,  had  thrust 
the  muzzle  of  a  huge  horse-pistol  cocked,  as  the  ready  eye  of  Chaloner  observed  in  an 
instant,  within  a  hand's  breadth  of  her  temples  ;  and  was,  with  loud  and  beastly  impre- 
cations, threatening  her  with  instant  death  if  she  spoke  or  resisted ;  the  other  had 
already  torn  a  jewelled  pendant  from  one  of  her  ears,  and  that  so  brutally,  that  a  drop 
or  two  of  blood  had  fallen  on  her  shoulder ;  and,  just  as  Chaloner  came  into  sight, 
attracted  by  a  glittering  brooch  which  secured  her  kerchief,  he  thrust  his  sacrilegious 
hand  into  the  sanctuary  of  her  bosom,  and  by  one  violent  effort  dragged  away  both  the 
brooch  and  kerchief,  rending  her  robe  itself,  and  leaving  all  her  snowy  bust  exposed  to 
their  foul  glances.  So  greedily  were  they  occupied  in  their  unholy  calling,  that  the 
villains  had  not  observed  the  repeated  shout  of  Chaloner  ;  and  consequently  he  came  on 
them  quite  unawares — he  was  indeed  upon  the  first  almost  before  he  was  aware  ot  it 
himself  and  rushing  at  a  tremendous  pace  down  the  steep  slope,  drawing  his  rapier  as 
he  came,  he  kicked  the  brute  who  was  in  the  act  of  stooping  over  his  groaning  victim, 
head-o vcr-heele  into  the  broken  gully  among  the  stones  and  brushwood  ;  and  dashed  on, 


46  MARMADTTKE 

xvithout  pausing  to  see  what  became  of  him,  to  succor  the  terrified  girl ;  who  seeing  aid 
so  near,  again  sent  forth  one  of  those  wild  ear-piercing  screams,  which  she  had  been 
deterred  from  uttering,  since  the  first  moment  of  her  peril,  by  menaces  of  instant  death. 
Her  shriek,  and  the  noise  of  their  comrade's  fall,  were  the  first  intimations  the  other 
robbers  had  that  they  were  interrupted  !  He  with  the  pistol,  diverting  his  aim  instantly 
from  Alice,  levelled  the  weapon  with  cool  deliberation  at  the  young  soldier's  head,  and 
pulled  the  trigger,  when  he  was  scarce  six  feet  from  its  muzzle.  Happily  for  him, 
however,  and  yet  more  so  for  her  whom  he  alone  preserved  from  robbery  and  perhaps 
worse  outrage,  it  had  been  greatly  overloaded,  and  recoiled  so  heavily  that  it  threw  up 
the  hand  which  fired  it,  for  it  had  been  correctly  aimed ;  and,  as  it  was,  the  ball  pierced 
the  crown  of  Henry's  hat,  actually  grazing  his  hair  in  its  passage.  Before  the  ruffian 
had  time  to  note  the  effect  of  his  discharge,  the  point  of  Chaloner's  sword  was  glittering 
between  his  shoulder  blades,  while  the  guard  knocked  against  his  breast-bone,  so  for- 
cibly was  the  thrust  driven  home  ;  and  with  a  fearful  execration  he  dropped  to  the  ground 
— the  blood  gushing  from  his  mouth,  and  from  the  wide  wound  in  his  bosom,  like  water 
forced  out  of  a  pump. 

So  rapidly  did  all  this  pass,  that  the  wounded  man  was  actually  prostrate  before  his 
comrade  had  unsheathed  his  broadsword  ;  and  when  he  did  so,  he  was  still  so  confused 
and  startled,  that  parrying  easily  an  ill-directed  lunge,  Henry  was  able  to  catch  Alice 
round  the  waist,  and  rush  back  through  the  underwood,  avoiding  the  place  where  the 
first  ruffian  was  now  struggling  out  of  the  ravine  toward  the  river.  He  had  hoped  to  be 
able  to  cross  over,  when  he  doubted  not  that  he  should  have  little  trouble  in  defending 
the  narrow  bridge,  by  which  one  only  could  pass  at  a  time,  until  help  should  arrive  ; 
and  he  was  confident  that  help  was  not  far  distant,  from  the  shout  which  had  so  promptly 
responded  to  his  own — but  he  was  disappointed,  for  he  had  barely  mounted  the  ascent, 
and  reached  the  river  bank,  when  both  the  robbers  were  upon  him  sword  in  hand.  To 
attempt  to  traverse  the  bridge,  leaving  his  back  exposed,  would  have  been  insanity  ! 
Setting  down  his  precious  charge,  and  bidding  her  run  for  her  life,  while  he  kept  the 
pass — he  again  shouted  at  the  pitch  of  his  voice,  and  as  he  did  so,  was  engaged  instantly 
in  hand-to-hand  encounter  with  two  swordsmen. 

Few  men  of  that  day  were  at  all  equal  to  Henry  Chaloner  in  the  management  and 
mastery  of  his  weapon  ;  and  he  derived  from  his  cool  and  collected  disposition  an  advan- 
tage hardly  if  at  all  inferior  to  his  skill  in  the  fence.  Had  ^ne  only  of  the  ruffians,  now 
opposed  to  him,  been  able  to  assault  him  at  a  time,  the  affair  would  have  been  decided 
in  ten  seconds — but  even  a  master  of  defence  has  his  hands  full  enough,  when  attacked 
hotly  by  two  tolerable  fencers — and  such  at  least  might  be  considered  the  bravos,  who 
now  pushed  at  him  with  fierce  savage  oaths,  encouraged  by  the  hope  of  booty,  and 
burning  to  avenge  their  comrade,  and  half  maddened  by  despair  and  want.  Even  at 
this  disadvantage,  the  brave  young  officer  would,  it  is  probable,  have  proved  still  supe- 
rior, had  he  fought  with  his  wonted  coolness  ;  but  now  his  eye  wandered  too  often 
from  the  flickering  points  of  the  brandished  rapiers,  in  pursuit  of  his  cousin — and,  when 
he  saw  her,  after  staggering  a  few  steps  toward  the  bridge,  sink  down  upon  the  grass  in 
a  dead  faint,  he  was  so  much  diverted  from  what  he  was  about,  mat  he  received  a  thrust 
in  the  left  breast  that  would  have  finished  his  career  upon  the  spot,  but  that  it  glanced 
off  from  a  button  of  his  coat,  inflicting  a  sharp  wound  as-  it  grazed  him,  and  running 
quite  through  his  left  arm.  The  effusion  of  blood  was  very  great,  although  the  sword 
blade  by  good  fortune  had  missed  the  artery,  and  the  robbers  at  once  saw  their  advan- 
tage. 

"  Fight  steady,  Joe,"  cried  one,  "  for  by  the—"  and  he  swore  an  oath  too  blasphe- 
mously fearful  to  be  written  down — "  he'll  bleed  away  by  inches,  and  we  can  finish  him 
at  our  leisure." 

And  accordingly  they  both  assumed  the  defensive,  menacing  him  it  is  true  at  times, 
both  with  edge  and  point,  and  at  times  pressing  him  back  toward  the  river;  but 
keeping  off,  and  waiting  the  time  when  loes  of  blood  should  render  him  a  weak  and 
easy  victim.  Now  he  exerted  every  nerve,  and  practiced  every  feint  and  foin  to  tempt 


OR,     THE     MAID'S     SEVENGfi.  47 

them  from  their  guard,  and  even  succeeded  in  drawing  blood  from  each,  by  turns,  though 
slightly.  And  now  he  perceived  the  advantage  which  they  had  gained,  and  which 
they  seemed  so  resolute  to  keep — and  as  he  felt  his  strength  ebbing  out  drop  by  drop, 
and  a  chill  sickening  faintness  gathering  at  his  breast — and  no  help  drawing  nigh — and 
she,  he  would  have  died  to  save,  lying  there  senseless  and  inanimate,  a  ready  spoil  to 
those  worse  than  brutes,  as  soon  he  should  fall — a  sensation  nearly  akin  to  the  cold  dull 
agony  of  despair  fell  on  his  soul ;  yet  still  he  fought  undauntedly,  and  still  they  dared 
not  to  close  with  him  ;  though  every  moment  he  felt  more  and  more  that  he  could  strive 
only  a  little — a  very  little  longer.  Then  to  augment  the  wretchedness — if  anything 
could  indeed  augment  it — of  his  feelings,  even  at  that  moment  of  unutterable  torture,  as 
if  in  mockery  of  his  situation,  the  clear  loud  merry  sound  of  the  dinner  bell  came 
clanging  through  the  sunny  air  from  the  neighboring  Hall — telling  of  joy  and  merriment, 
and  succor  near  at  hand,  yet  really  as  far  from  him  as  though  it  had  been  fifty  leagues 
aloof.  He  felt  it — felt  it  bitterly,  and  keenly — and,  though  he  almost  staggered  from 
exhaustion,  knowing  that  all  depended  on  himself,  he  lunged  with  fierce  impetuous 
thrusts,  raising  once  more  as  loud  a  shout  as  his  quivering  lips  could  utter. 

By  heaven  !  the  shout  was  answered — close  at  hand  rang  the  cry — a  loud  stentorian 
whoop  from  the  beach  covert,  and  the  thundering  tramp  of  a  horse  at  full  gallop. 

"  In  with  you,  Joe — in  with  you,  man,"  muttered  the  ruffian,  who  had  spoken  before ; 
"  thrust  at  him,  both  at  once  :"  and  they  did  so,  again  and  again ;  and  at  the  third  pass 
again  wounded  him.  Still  he  kept  up  his  guard,  and  feebly  answered  the  approaching 
clamor. 

And  now,  bareheaded,  in  fierce  haste,  lashing  the  fiery  Arab  to  yet  more  fiery  speed, 
Sherlock  drove  up  the  hill  beyond  the  river.  The  men  looked  doubtfully  at  one  another; 
yet  still,  although  dispirited,  pressed  on  ! 

"  Damn  it — don't  give  it  up  now  1"  the  man,  who  had  not  spoken  hitherto,  now 
criid  with  terrible  malignity :  "  Finish  this  fool  at  once  !  the  other  has  no  arms,  and 
before  he  can  dismount,  and  cross  the  bridge,  we  can  get  off,  and  bear  her  with  us  1" 

"  Revenge  !"  the  other  answered,  with  a  yet  fiercer  rush  on  Chaloner,  than  any  he 
had  ventured  yet  to  make  ;  but  the  assurance  of  prompt  aid  had  reinvigorated  the  ebbing 
strength  of  Henry ;  and  he  not  only  parried  his  thrust  completely,  but  lunged  in  his 
turn,  and  gave  his  assailant  a  sharp  wound  in  the  shoulder.  The  ruffians  had,  more- 
over,  counted  without  their  host ;  for  Sherlock  never  once  thought  of  dismounting,  nor 
drew  the  rein  at  all,  nor  checked  the  thundering  gallop  of  Wyvil's  black  Arabian.  No  ! 
not  he  1  He  flung  his  hat,  with  which  he  had  been  thrashing  the  charger's  sidos  in 
lack  of  a  better  goad,  high  up  into  the  air,  and  setting  himself  firm  in  the  saddle,  charged 
with  a  wild  shrill  cry  full  at  the  perilous  leap.  Bravely  the  gallant  brute  drove  at  it — 
with  his  expanded  nostrils  red  as  fire,  and  his  wide  eyeballs  glancing  with  a  keen  spark 
of  vicious  lightning — bravely  he  drove  at  it,  with  the  speed,  as  it  seemed,  of  a  whirl- 
wind,  the  solid  greensward  literally  shaking  beneath  his  furious  gallop.  Not  a  second 
did  he  pause — no,  not  the  twinkling  of  an  eye  !  on  the  sheer  verge.  The  treacherous 
turf,  at  the  extreme  brink,  yielded,  broke  in,  under  his  forefeet — but  it  was  all  too  late  j 
a  moment  he  was  seen  sweeping  through  the  air,  and  then  alighted  with  a  stern  dint  on 
the  rocky  ridge,  amid  a  cloud  of  dust  and  fire,  ground  from  the  flinty  surface  by  his 
heels  !  "  Hurrah  !"  screamed  the  excited  yeoman.  "  Hurrah  !  surrender  ye  black 
thieves,  or  ye  are  but  dead  men !"  and,  as  he  spoke,  reining  his  horse  up  by  the  side 
of  Henry,  he  plucked  one  of  the  empty  pistols  from  his  holster  and  levelled  it—"  Down 
with  your  arms  " — but  the  sight  was  all  sufficient.  Seeing  that  Sherlock  had  no  eword, 
and  judging  from  his  dress  that  he  was  a  mere  countryman,  they  had  persisted  even  after 
his  bold  leap  ;  but  when  they  saw  the  motion  of  his  hand  toward  the  holster,  they  took 
at  once  to  their  heels,  one  even  throwing  away  his  sword,  and  dashed  into  the  scattered 
bushes,  flying  in  mortal  terror. 

The  farmer's  blood  was  up,  and  though  unarmed,  he  would  have  still  pursued  ;  but 
Henry  railed  him  to  desist,  and  lend  his  aid  to  Mistress  Alice.  Water  was  soon  pro- 
cured  from  the  stream,  and,  after  two  or  three  deep  sighs,  and  a  long  fluttering  struggle, 


48  MARMADTTRE 

she  returned  to  her  senses,  and  with  them  to  a  full  appreciation  of  her  peril,  and  of  her 
cousin's  gallantry  in  her  behalf.  In  a  few  moments  a  bandage  was  applied  to  the  young 
soldier's  wounded  arm  ;  and,  Sherlock  undertaking  to  carry  the  poor  old  servant — who 
still  remained  insensible  from  the  terrible  beating  he  had  undergone — home  on  the  black 
horse  by  the  postern  ;  and  to  send  people  to  look  after  the  slain  bravo — the  young  pair 
crossed  the  bridge  and  hurried  homeward,  both  silent  and  affected  beyond  the  power 
of  speech ;  one  by  the  intensity  of  his  excited  feelings  acting  on  a  debilitated  system, 
the  other  by  the  conflicting  influences  of  joy,  and  gratitude,  and  terror. 


CHAPTER    X. 

LONG  before  they  reached  the  Hall,  however,  they  were  met  by  several  domestics 
who  had  come  forth  to  seek  them ;  or  who,  seeing  the  abruptness  with  which  Sherlock 
had  wheeled  his  horse  out  of  the  carriage  road,  and  galloped  across  the  park,  had  sus- 
pected some  peril  to  their  young  mistress,  and  rushed  out,  although  too  late,  to  her 
assistance.  Manifold  were  the  exclamations  of  wonder,  pity,  and  dismay,  that  fell  from 
their  lips,  as  they  beheld  the  testimonies  of  her  danger  in  the  rent  sleeve  and  bloody 
dress  of  her  bold  protector,  and  heard  in  a  few  words  what  had  passed  ;  but  indignation 
prevailed  in  their  minds,  and  anger,  over  all  other  sentiments.  Two  or  three  who  were 
armed — for  a  park-keeper  with  his  musketoon  was  one  of  the  number,  and  a  falconer 
with  hawking-pole  and  wood-knife — started  immediately  in  pursuit  of  the  insolent  ruf- 
fians who  had  dared  to  insult  their  beloved  lady  within  the  very  precincts  of  her  own 
grounds — others  ran  to  the  park  gate  to  meet  the  worthy  farmer  and  lend  their  aid  to 
the  old  major-domo  Jeremy — and  many  others  hurried  back  to  the  house,  to  collect 
weapons  of  all  sorts,  and  scour  the  country  round,  and  all  the  neighboring  woodlands, 
determined  at  all  hazards  to  seize  and  punish  the  marauders. 

Meanwhile  old  Master  Selby,  having  been  made  aware  by  the  bustle  and  running  to 
and  fro  that  something  more  than  common  was  in  progress,  had  come  down  from  his 
library,  and  learning  there,  not  without  some  exaggeration,  what  had  taken  place,  rushed 
out,  bareheaded  as  he  was,  in  more  than  mortal  terror.  Words  cannot  paint  the  deeper 
and  more  powerful  emotions  of  the  human  mind  ;  at  best  they  can  but  feebly  image  to 
our  senses. the  external  signs  of  the  strange  workings  constantly  in  process  within  that 
finest  of  volcanoes — the  secret  heart  of  man.  A  deep  flush  shot  across  the  high  and 
pallid  forehead  of  the  father,  and  the  big  drops  gushed  out  like  summer  rain  from  those 
eyes  long  unused  to  weep  at  any  earthly  sorrow,  as  he  clasped  to  his  bosom,  full  of 
thoughts  far  too  deep  for  speech,  his  innocent  and  lovely  child  ;  while  she  with  like 
emotion  clung  to  his  close  embrace,  and  wept  in  silence  within  the  sheltering  circle  of 
the  frail  arms  which  trembled  as  they  pressed  her. 

"  Blessed  be  God  !"  he  faltered  forth  at  length.  "  My  child— my  own,  own  child  !" 
and  with  the  words  kissing  her  pale  fair  brow,  he  surrendered  her  to  the  care  of  her 
maidens,  and  turned  to  grasp,  with  scarce  inferior  energy  of  love  and  gratitude,  the 
hand  of  her  defender.  "And  thou,"  he  said,  "  Henry,  thou  too  !  thou,  that  hast  ever 
been  my  affectionate  kinsman  and  true  friend,  be  now,  henceforth  for  ever,  be  my  son!" 
and  he  drew  him  to  his  aged  breast,  and  held  him  for  a  moment  there,  like  himself 
speechless  from  the  very  force  and  depths  of  his  feelings. 

But  scenes  like  this  must,  from  their  very  nature,  have  speedy  terminations ;  and, 
although  in  that  instance  all  the  spectators  fully  and  freely  sympathized  with  the  emo- 
tions of  the  actors  ;  though  there  was  no  broad  glare  of  idiot  curiosity,  no  sneer  of  apa- 
thetic dull  brutality,  to  jar  and  jangle  on  the  nerves  attuned  to  so  high  a  pitch,  it  was 
— as  always  is  the  case  with  spirits  of  a  sensitive  and  elevated  order — with  a  sense  of 
somelhing  nearly  akin  to  shame,  that  on  recovering  from  their  ecstacy,  they  withdrew 
from  the  gaze— too  near,  though  it  was  friendly—of  the  &mall  group  which  stood  in 
mute  attention  around  them. 


OE,     THE     MAID'S     REVENGE.  49 

It  was  some  time  before  any  of  the  three  were  again  visible.  Henry  was  borne  off 
to  a  chamber  which  from  his  childhood  upward  had  been  set  apart  to  his  use  and  desig- 
nated by  his  name  ;  and  there  his  hurts  were  looked  to  with  a  solicitude  that  could  not 
be  surpassed,  and  with  a  degree  of  skill,  which,  although  often  found  in  those  days  pos- 
sessed by  persons  not  professional,  would  now  be  looked  for  only  in  a  regular  surgeon 
of  high  practice.  Alice  retired  with  her  women  to  the  seclusion  of  her  own  apartments, 
and  it  was  not  a  little  while  before  she  could  control  her  agitated  feelings  enough  to 
reflect  with  any  degree  of  calmness  on  the  dangers  she  had  that  day  undergone  ;  much 
less  to  bring  down  her  mind  to  other  matters,  equally  at  least,  if  not  more,  pressing. 

The  noontide  meal  passed  that  day,  for  the  first  time  at  Woolverton  in  many,  many 
years,  unhonored  by  the  presence  of  any  member  of  the  family ;  and  those  who  were 
collected  round  the  ample  board,  the  higher  servants  namely  of  the  household,  instead 
of  displaying  by  an  increase  of  levity,  or  any  show  of  boisterous  merriment,  their  free- 
dom from  restraint  imposed  by  the  presence  of  superiors — as  would  assuredly  be  the 
case  now-a-days — were  graver  and  more  silent  than  their  wont,  and  even  downcast,  if 
not  sad,  in  the  expression  of  their  homely  features.  The  afternoon  passed  dully — the 
arrival  of  the  servants,  headed  by  Sherlock,  bearing  on  their  shoulders  the  still  senseless 
body  of  the  old  butler,  tended  in  no  degree  to  produce  any  alteration  in  their  feelings 
for  the  merrier.  So  severe  were  the  injuries,  and  so  critical  the  state  of  the  faithful 
servitor,  that,  his  case  evidently  requiring  skill  far  beyond  that  of  the  housekeeper,  famed 
though  she  was  through  all  the  parishes  about  for  the  rare  virtue  of  her  simples ;  an 
express  was  sent  off  to  Long  Darringford,  a  little  country  town  some  five  miles  distant, 
for  Doctor  Trowbridge,  who  on  his  coming  gave  an  opinion,  guarded  indeed  and  far 
from  positive,  that  he  would  painfully  and  tediously  recover.  Having  administered  a 
soothing  potion  to  his  fair  patient,  whose  first  entrance  into  this  world  of  pains  and 
sorrows  he  had  witnessed  ;  and  having  honored  with  his  approbation  the  strings  and 
bandages  wherewith  his  rival — as  he  always  called  her — worthy  mother  Trueman  had 
accommodated  Henry's  arm,  and  which  he  refused  to  remove  or  alter,  he  packed  his 
short-legged  round-barrelled  cob,  and  trotted  soberly  off  between  his  well-stuffed  saddle, 
bags,  to  the  benefit  of  some  poor  sufferer  at  ten  or  twelve  miles'  distance. 

Soon  after  his  departure,  Alice  sent  down  a  message  to  her  father  praying  that  he 
would  visit  her  forthwith ;  and  on  his  coming  she  dismissed  her  women,  and  they 
remained  for  more  than  two  hours  alone  in  close  and  anxious  conversation.  At  the 
end  of  this  period,  having  apparently  recovered  quite  frofn  the  trepidation  and  embar- 
rassment which  had  been  the  natural  consequences  of  the  morning's  terror,  and  showing 
only  by  an  unusual  paleness  of  her  pure  delicate  complexion  that  anything  uncommon 
had  befallen  her,  she  descended  leaning  on  her  father's  arms  to  the  library,  where  she 
lay  down  upon  the  cushioned  ottoman  which  fitted  the  embrasure  of  the  deep  window, 
and  soon  fell  into  a  calm  and  gentle  slumber,  the  old  man  watching  over  her  with  almost 
painful  tenderness.  Meanwhile  the  sun  set  calmly  in  the  west,  and  his  last  rays  ceased 
to  gild  the  sere  tops  of  the  lofty  forest-trees  which  sheltered  the  old  mansion,  and  the 
hoarse  cawing  of  the  homeward  rooks  was  heard  no  longer — but  in  Mark  Selby's  library 
no  lamp  was  lighted  that  night,  nor  did  he  pore  over  his  favorites  of  by-gone  ages, 
immersed  as  he  was  for  a  little  while  in  a  more  anxious  study,  as  he  hung  over  his  fair 
child — sole  idol  of  his  withered  heart — still  sleeping  in  so  tranquil  and  immoveable  a 
stupor,  so  ashy  white  withal,  and  so  supernaturally  calm  in  the  expression  of  her  face, 
that  but  for  the  faint  fluttering  pulsation  of  her  sweet  bosom,  it  might  have  well  been 
taken  for  that  long  trance  whose  bed  is  the  cold  grave — whose  waking  is  eternity. 
Suddenly,  some  few  moments  after  the  last  echo  of  the  last  chime  of  the  stable  clock- 
house,  as  it  struck  eight  o'clock,  had  died  into  utter  silence,  she  sat  up,  wide  awake  in 
an  instant,  and  perfectly  collected— as  the  quiet  tones  of  her  tuneful  voice  proved  beyond 
doubt. 

"  Father,"  she  said,  for  it  had  now  become  quite  dark,  "  are  you  there,  father  ?" 

"  Surely,"  replied  the  old  man,  "  I  am  beside  your  head,  and  have  not  moved  thence, 
darling)  since  first  you  seemed  to  sleep.  How  fare  you,  da  west,  now  ?" 


50  MARMADTTKEWYVIL; 

"  Quite  well,"  she  answered  cheerfully — "  oh,  quite  well,  father.  My  long  sleep  has 
refreshed  me,  and  I  am  now  as  strong  and  well  as  ever.  I  have  not,  I  trust,  slept 
overlong — the  hour  has  not  passed,  has  it  ?  Oh,  father  dear,  you  should  have  roused 
me  sooner." 

"  Nay !  nay !  be  not  alarmed,"  replied  her  father — "  be  not  alarmed  without  cause, 
Alice.  The  clock  has  but  this  moment  stricken  eight,  and  Launcelot  hath  not  yet  an- 
nounced supper.  I  will  now  call  for  lights,  and  then  go  down  to  the  hall.  I  shall  for- 
bid that  any  of  the  household  enter  in  hither,  lest  they  disturb  your  slumbers.  Compose 
yourself  again  for  awhile,  and  then  you  may  fulfil  your  purpose." 

"  Well,  if  it  must  be  so !  yet,  father,  I  do  feel  no  small  repugnance  to  visit  the  young 
gentleman  alone — so  far  removed,  too,  from  all  earthly  witnesses." 

"  It  must  be  so,  my  Alice — it  must  be  so,  however,"  answered  he.  "  Already  once 
to-day  was  I  well  nigh  found  absent,  when  so  to  be  found  would  have  been  utter  ruin. 
Moreover,  dearest  child,  the  force  of  circumstance  is  vast ;  and  that  which  would  in 
one  case  be  judged — and  rightly  judged — unmaidenly  and  forward,  becomes  in  another, 
the  most  natural  thing  in  the  world.  He  were  a  villain,  too,  such  as  nor  earth  has  ever 
held,  nor  Heaven  looked  down  upon,  if  he  could  ever  dream  of  wronging  you." 

"  Oh  no  !  no,  father,"  replied  Alice,  a  deep  blush  mantling  all  her  lovely  features  ; 
"  I  never  even  thought  of  that — I  only  feared  that  I  might  seem  to  him,  as  you  have 
said,  unmaidenly  and  over-bold." 

"Ever  strive  you  to  act  rightly,  child,"  the  old  man  answered,  "  as  with  your  upright 
soul  and  pure  heart,  you  will,  I  fear  not,  alway — and  never  heed  what  this  man  or  that 
woman  think  or  say  of  it.  If  they  be  pure  minded  and  noble,  why  then  they  will  judge 
candidly  and  nobly — if  other,  then  it  matters  not  how  they  regard  it.M 

"Well,  father,"  she  replied,  "I  will  go  visit  him  anon:  tell  me,  I  pray  you  where 
you  have  hid  the  basket  ?" 

"  It  is  within  the  passage,  Alice,"  he  replied,  "  and  a  light  burning.  Tarry  awhile, 
and  listen  on  your  return  before  you  come  in  hither,  lest  Chaloner  should  quit  his 
chamber  and  seek  to  find  you  here.  Farewell,  dear  child,  and  linger  not  overlong." 
Once  more,  as  he  ceased  speaking,  he  folded  her  to  his  breast,  whispered  a  gentle  bless, 
ing,  and,  without  waiting  any  further  answer  than  the  kiss  which  melted  on  his  lips, 
left  her  alone  in  the  dim  twilight  chamber.  For  some  time  afterwards  she  did  not  move 
at  all  from  the  couch  on  which  she  had  been  leaning,  but  continued  buried  in  deep  and 
painful  meditations,  reluctant  to  set  forth  upon  her  self-elected  duty,  to  which — now 
that  the  first  excitement  and  ftovelty  of  the  adventure  had  passed  away — she  felt  herself 
unfitted  by  something  of  timidity  and  bashfulness,  which  she  had  never  experienced  at 
any  time  before  so  heavily  oppressive.  Al  last,  manning  herself,  as  it  were,  with  a  sud- 
den courage,  she  started  to  her  feet  hastily,  not,  perhaps,  daring  to  trust  her  own  thoughts 
any  longer,  lest  they  should  quite  overpower  her  firmness ;  and  opening  the  concealed 
door,  not  without  some  embarrassment,  hurried  into  the  vaulted  passage,  closing  the 
entrance  carefully  behind  her.  It  did  not  occupy  her  many  minutes  to  thread,  with  her 
light  step  and  ready  knowledge  of  the  way,  the  intricacies  of  that  gloomy  hiding-place, 
and  she  was  at  the  very  door  of  the  secret  chamber,  before  she  had  fairly  collected  her 
thoughts  for  the  half  dreaded,  half  desired  interview.  One  little  moment  she  paused  at 
the  door,  her  cheek  suffused  with  a  deep  crimson  flush,  and  her  heart  throbbing  with 
so  convulsive  violence,  that  she  felt  quite  exhausted  and  at  the  point  of  fainting.  She 
rallied  however  instantly,  and  tapping  the  panel  very  gently,  "  open,"  she  uttered,  in 
her  soft  low-toned  voice — "  open  to  me,  captain  Wyvil — it  is  I  only,  Alice  Selby  !" 

The  instant  she  spoke,  a  hurried  step  sounded  within,  the  bolts  were  withdrawn,  the 
door  was  thrown  open,  and  the  young  soldier  led  his  bright  hostess  to  a  seat,  pouring 
forth  all  the  while  such  protestations  of  eternal  gratitude,  couched  in  words  so  feelingly 
yet  simply  eloquent,  and  those  words  uttered  too  in  tones  so  rich,  so  full  of  manly  melo- 
dy, that  no  created  ear  of  woman  but  must  have  given  them  heed. 

"  Oh!  how — how  may  I  ever  prove,"  he  said — "  how  speak  in  living  language,  the 
tittle  of  what  I  feel,  dear  lady  ?  Words  may  not  tell— the  human  heart  itself  may  barely 


OR,     THE     MAID'S    REVENGE.  51 

comprehend  its  own  deep  feelings.  For  do  not  I  owe  life,  and  more  than  life,  to  your 
calm,  gentle  courage — to  your  sweet  sympathy  with  the  good  cause — to  your  brave, 
generous,  self-oblivion?" 

"  Do  not,  I  pray  you,  captain  Wyvil,"  she  replied,  her  presence  of  mind  having  come 
back  to  her  at  once,  when  the  first  step  was  taken — "  do  not,  I  pray  you,  put  rne  to  the 
blush  by  praises  that  savor  more,  I  fear,  of  courtly  politesse  than  of  hard-featured  lion- 
est  truth.  I  should  imagine  you  but  spoke  in  mockery,  did  not  your  courtesy  forbid 
construction  so  ungentle ;  for  surely  I  did  nothing  that  any  other  lady  would  have 
doubted  to  do  in  like  circumstances,  for  any  of  the  gallant  soldiers  who  have  so  faith- 
fully done  battle  for  king  Charles." 

"  Most  natural  it  is  thai  you  should  deem  so,  lady,  seeing  that  the  pure  and  noble- 
hearted  ever — till  sad  experience  has  taught  them  the  reverse — believe  the  souls  of  others 
to  be  all  truth,  and  honor,  and  high  generosity ;  and  find  in  everything  about  them,  so 
strong  does  their  undoubting  fancy  work,  a  clear  reflected  portrait  of  their  own  in-born 
worth.  But  trust  me,  lady,  when  thou  didst  step  forth  boldly  to  succor  the  distressed 
and  flying  stranger,  ten  would  have  fled  in  selfish  terror,  leaving  him  to  the  mercy  of 
his  bitterest  foemen.  Where  thou  didst  take  no  thought  of  self  at  all  in  sympathy  for 
one  thou  didst  not  even  know,  save  as  a  fellow  being,  ten  would  have  taken  no  thought 
else.  Nay,  more  !  of  the  few  noble  spirits  who  would  have  aided,  had  the  time  been 
given  for  calm  deliberate  action,  half  would  have  doubted  till  the  occasion  had  gone 
by — half  pitied  merely,  or  marvelled  till  too  late ;  or  had  they  even  resolved  to  act  at 
aH,  would  so  have  acted,  with  hurry,  fear,  and  trepidation,  that  all  had  been  discovered 
and  rendered  useless !  Oh !  no,  dear  lady,  no !  it  may  not  be  denied  that  I  owe  life 
itself  to  your  kind  sympathy,  to  your  energy,  decision  and  courage  !  Nor,  now  that  I 
have  seen  my  fair  deliverer,  would  I  for  untold  worlds  be  free  from  that  sweet  obliga- 
tion ;  henceforth,  for  ever,  I  am  yours — your  bondsman,  your  sworn  soldier,  and  your 
slave  !" 

"  Well,  be  it  as  you  will,  sir,"  answered  Alice,  with  a  calm  smile  ;  "  it  cannot 
but  be  most  agreeable  to  me  to  know  myself  in  any  wise  the  saviour  of  a  human  life  ; 
and  if  you  so  esteem  it,  I  cannot  be  so  churlish  as  to  refuse  your  thanks.  Mean- 
while, as  it  seems  necessary  that  you  should  be  a  prisoner  for  some  days  yet  in  this  dark 
den,  I  have  brought  you  some  trifles  whereby  to  make  your  time  pass  the  less  gloomily 
— some  wax-lights,  books,  and  wine  ;  and  I  must  tell  you  now,  ere  I  forget  it,  that  fresh 
search  will  be  made  for  you  betimes  to-morrow — my  father  has  instructed  you  how  to 
avoid  your  enemies,  and  you  shall  not  want  timely  notife — but  one  thing  has  occurred 
to  me,  which  I  believe  my  father  had  forgotten  ;  you  must  not  bar  the  door  within,  and 
the  key  must  be  left  without ;  forget  not  this,  I  do  beseech  you,  else  will  all  our  endeavors 
be  lost  labor  ;  and  now,"  she  added,  taking  up  her  basket,  the  contents  of  which  she 
had  deposited  upon  the  table  during  the  conversation — "  now  I  will  bid  you  farewell ; 
I  fear  I  may  be  missed,  an  if  I  tarry  longer. 

Oh,  go  not  yet— go  not  yet,  lovely  Mistress  Alice,"  exclaimed  the  young  man  passion- 
ately, rising  up  from  his  chair,  as  if  to  detain  her;  "  you  do  not  know,  you  cannot  dream, 
how  wearisome — how  terrible  a  thing  it  is,  for  one  used  from  his  boyhood  up  to  the 
free  liberal  air,  to  the  broad  face  of  the  sunlighted  heavens,  to  the  green  loveliness  of 
earth ;  to  be  pent  here,  taking  no  note  of  time,  without  so  much  as  a  stray  mouse  to  bear 
him  company — day  after  day,  night  after  night,  in  solitude  and  sadness.  Oh,  go  not  yet, 
I  do  beseech  you  !  linger  a  little  while  to  make  this  gloomy  cell  radiant  by  your  bright 
presence.  You  know  not,  oh  !  you  know  not,  nor  can  fancy,  how  I  have  watched,  and 
prayed,  and  panted  for  this  interview — how  I  have  dreamed  all  night,  and  pondered  all 
day,  on  the  sweet  half-seen  features  of  you,  my  guardian  angel.  How  I  have  fancied 
for  the  words  in  which  I  would  embody  my  deep  gratitude,  my  deathless  fealty — and 

now  that  the  long-wished  moment  has  arrived,  my  tongue  clings  faltering  to  my  jaws 

my  spirit  finds  no  voice  to  give  its  feelings  utterance.  Oh !  go  not,  lady,  I  beseech 
you ;  who  is  there  that  should  miss  you,  as  you  say,  saving  your  excellent  father  ?" 

"  My  cousin,  sir,  who  is  now  with  us  as  our  guest— my  cousin,  Henry  Chaloaer." 


52  MARMADTJKE 

"  What!"  exclaimed  Wyvil,  hastily— «  what !  Chaloner— the  rebel  Major  General - 
whose  leading  of  the  horse  at  Marston  contributed  so  fatally  to  the  success  01  Cromwell 
— who  fought  by  Fairfax's  side  at  Pasely,  and  was  the  first  to  cross  the  Team  at  Wor- 
cester ?  Can  it  be  such  an  one  who  shares  the  hospitality  of  Woolverton  ?" 

"  Even  so,  Captain  Wyvil,"  answered  Alice,  not  altogether  pleased  by  his  manner 

"  even  so  :  Henry  Chaloner,  my  father's  honored  cousin,  and  the  defender  of  his  daugh- 
ter's honor  1" 

"  Oh,  now  I  have  offended  you,"  cried  Marmaduke — "  offended  you  I  fear,  past  hope 
of  pleasing  any  more.  And  yet  I  spoke  but  thoughtlessly,  and  from  a  passing  moment's 
irritation — the  pardonable  irritation  of  a  defeated  soldier  against  his  more  successful 
rival — but  had  I  known,  dear  lady,  had  I  at  all  suspected  how  high  this  rebel  soldier 
stands  in  your  fair  esteem,  then  rather  had  I  died  than  breathed  a  thought  against  him." 

"  Nay !  now  you  misinterpret  me,"  she  answered  quietly,  but  blushing  deeply  as  she 
spoke ;  "  since  Henry  Chaloner  was  nought  to  me  before  this  day,  except  my  father's 
friend  and  my  good  kinsman  ;  and  if  I  did  esteem  his  nobleness  of  mind,  his  singleness 
of  purpose,  his  perfect  truth  and  dauntless  courage,  yet  more  did  I  regret  the  strange 
hallucination,  which  had  induced  him  to  link  qualities  so  fair  and  good  unto  a  cause  so 
black,  so  impious,  and  unholy  !  But  Henry  Chaloner  has  this  day  bound  my  soul  with 
obligations  which  must  endure  for  ever ;"  and  simply,  but  with  deep  feeling,  she  told 
him  the  events  of  the  forenoon,  her  peril  from  the  ruffian  cavaliers,  and  her  bold  rescue 
by  the  Puritan  leader. 

High  colored  Wyvil's  cheek,  keen  flashed  his  eye,  as  she  proceeded  ;  and  when  she 
told  how  they  had  torn  the  earrings  from  her  lacerated  ears,  and  placed  the  muzzle  of 
the  pistol  to  her  brow,  he  started  to  his  feet,  and  half  unsheathed  his  rapier,  muttering 
through  his  close  set  teeth,  "  villains,  accursed  villains  !"  but  when  she  spoke  of  Henry's 
daring  onset,  of  his  encounter,  single-handed,  against  the  two  marauders — of  his  wound, 
and  her  fainting  fit,  and  of  John  Sherlock's  late  arrival  on  the  field ;  he  bit  his  lip  till 
the  color  faded  from  it  quite,  and  while  his  face  grew  pale  as  death — 

"  Happy  man  !  happy !"  he  exclaimed,  "  and,  indeed,  thrice  happy !  Oh  that  it  had 
been  mine,  so  to  do  in  your  cause  ;  and  doing  so  to  have  died  there  and  then.  For 
then,  although  the  jewel — the  all  inestimable  jewel  of  your  love  had  been  surrendered 
to  this  Chaloner,  regret  had  still  been  mine,  and  the  sweet  meed  of  kind  and  sorrowful 
remembrance.  But  wo  is  me  !  Fortune  was  never  yet  the  friend  of  Wyvil." 

Again  the  deep  red  flush  shot  over  the  fair  brow  of  Alice,  and  she  frowned  slightly, 
and  her  voice  was  very  cold,  arid  almost  stern,  as  she  replied — "  Nay  !  Captain  Wyvil, 
now  you  are  overbold,  to  speak  to  me  of  love !  Toys  such  as  these,  sir,  suit  not  so  brief 
acquaintance  as  that  which  rests  between  us ;  nor  should  I  like  them  better,  even  if 
we  were  better  known.  When  next  you  need  a  visitant,  my  father  shall  wait  on  you." 

"  No !  no !"  cried  Marmaduke,  impetuously  springing  forward,  and  throwing  him- 
self at  her  feet,  so  as  to  grasp  the  hem  of  her  garment.  "  No !  no  !  you  must  not  quit 
me  so.  Oh !  not  in  anger,  thus — not  in  contempt,  sweet  lady  !  Pardon  me — pardon,  I 
beseech  you ;  for  I  am  quick  of  speech,  and  have  ever  been  but  too  prone  to  speak  the 
promptings  of  a  heart,  too  warm  perhaps  and  ardent,  but  neither  obstinate,  believe  me, 
nor  wilful  in  offending — pardon  me,  and  revoke  that  cruel  sentence ;  and  say  that  you 
will  visit  me  again,  and  cheer  the  hapless  prisoner's  solitude  with  some  brief  gleams 
of  bliss !" 

"  Rise,  sir ;  rise,  I  beseech  you.  I  do  believe  you  think  me  indeed  a  country  girl, 
and  a  most  silly  one,  too,  that  you  rave  thus  and  mouth  it.  Rise,"  she  continued, 
smiling,  she  scarce  knew  why,  at  the  evident  sincerity  of  his  emotion — "  and  we  will 
part  good  friends." 

Then  without  further  words  he  rose,  and  led  her  to  the  door,  and  bowed  respectfully 
upon  her  hand,  and  raising  it  a  little,  just  touched  it  with  his  lips  as  she  departed,  utter- 
ing in  a  half-choked  voice  that  passionate,  sad  sound,  «  Farewell !»  Alice  raised  not 
her  eyes  to  his  face— for  her  life  she  could  not  have  done  so  !  but  trembled  violently  in 
every  limb  of  her  fair  body,  as,  in  accordance  with  the  fashion  of  the  day,  he  kissed  her 


6  ft,    THE    MAID'S    REVENGE.  55 

trients,  I  would  not  for  the  wealth  of  Eldorado  disturb  their  even  tenor,  or  move  you 
any  more  to  so  sad  thoughts  as  these.  Promise  me  this — will  you  not,  cousin  Alice  ?" 

"  Indeed  I  will — indeed  I  will,  dear  Henry,"  she  replied,  her  beautiful  blue  eyes 
swimming  with  tearful  tenderness.  "  There  is  no  one  upon  earth,  on  whom  I  would 
call  half  so  willingly — with  half  so  true  a  trust.  And  now,"  she  added,  stretching  out 
her  fair  hand  to  him,  "good  night,  and  blessings  be  about  your  head,  and  peace  for  ever." 

He  caught  the  proffered  hand,  and  held  it  for  a  moment,  wistfully  gazing  in  her  face ; 
then,  as  if  by  a  sudden  and  irresistible  impulse  snatched  her  to  his  bosom,  and  strained 
her  there  the  while  he  pressed  a  long  cold  kiss  upon  her  snowy  forehead.  "  Pardon," 
he  said,  as  he  released  her.  "Pardon:  it  is  the  last — the  last — oh!  Heaven!"  and  in 
a  burst  of  feelings  most  unaccustomed  to  that  self-restrained  and  philosophic  spirit, 
he  rushed  from  the  apartment,  and  was  seen  no  more  that  evening  by  any  inmate 
of  the  Hall. 


CHAPTER    XI. 

AT  a  very  early  hour  on  the  following  morning,  before  the  household  had  assembled 
to  their  first  meal,  the  trumpets  of  a  squadron  were  heard  in  the  park ;  and  very  shortly 
afterwards  the  clatter  of  hoofs  mixed  with  the  sharper  clash  of  their  accoutrements,  ring, 
ing  and  clashing  with  the  speed  at  which  they  rode,  came  nearer  yet  and  nearer  on  the 
soft  morning  air,  and  only  ceased  at  length  when  four  or  five  troops  of  the  Ironsides 
halted  before  the  gate  of  the  courtyard.  Scarcely,  however,  had  they  halted,  before 
Chaloner  came  out  alone  to  meet  them,  and  having  held  brief  conference  with  Colonel 
Keating  their  commander,  and  seen  above  a  hundred  of  the  men  dismounted  and  drawn 
up  round  the  house,  each  within  gunshot  of  the  other,  he  led  the  officers  through  the 
parterre  into  the  house  itself,  the  other  troopers  remaining  in  the  court  till  further  orders. 
This  time,  the  visit  of  the  soldiery  was  orderly  and  civilly  conducted ;  for  Keating,  who 
had  come  out  at  their  head  in  person,  was  himself  a  gentleman  of  old  and  honorable 
family,  and  had  borne  arms  in  Germany  and  the  low  countries  with  good  repute,  before 
the  civil  war  broke  out  in  England  ;  and  he  had,  in  compliance  with  a  hint  from  Chal- 
oner, selected  the  more  polished  of  his  subalterns  for  this  day's  expedition.  Just  as 
they  were  admitted  to  the  Hall,  the  breakfast  bell  rang  out  and  all  the  household  was 
assembled,  the  Ironsides  receiving  a  request  that  they  would  partake  of  the  hospitalities 
of  Woolverton,  before  proceeding  to  their  duties.  Alice  had  not,  as  yet,  descended  from 
her  bower ;  though  all  the  rest  were  seated,  when  Henry  Chaloner  with  several  officers 
in  full  costume,  with  their  long  broadswords  clanking  in  their  iron  scabbards  and  their 
spurs  jingling  on  the  oaken  floor,  joined  in  the  domestic  group  ;  but  in  a  few  minutes 
she  too  entered,  looking  a  little  paler  than  her  wont,  and  very  simply  dressed,  a  few 
stray  ringlets  of  her  rich  sunny  hair  escaping  from  a  plain  lace  cap  which  covered  her 
whole  head,  and  her  form  somewhat  shrouded  in  a  loose  morning-robe  of  grave  sad- 
colored  satin — but  still  so  lovely,  that  even  the  rude  officers  of  the  parliamentarian  army 
were  moved  by  the  grace  and  quiet  dignity  of  her  appearance,  and  rose  at  once  to  greet 
her.  But  little  conversation  passed  during  the  ensuing  meal,  and  even  that  little  was 
constrained  and  uneasy  in  its  nature,  and  very  vague  and  general  in  its  topics ;  so  that 
it  was  perhaps  a  relief  to  all  parties,  when  the  company  arose  from  the  table,  and  Chal- 
oner announced  to  Selby  his  intention  of  proceeding  with  the  search  forthwith. 

"  The  quicker  things  of  this  nature  are  brought  to  a  close,  the  better ;  so  we  will 
waste  no  time  in  empty  compliment,  but  go  on  straightway  to  the  point.  Now,  Colonel 
Keating,  order  in,  if  you  please,  one  troop  dismounted  with  their  carbines ;  the  rest 
may  form  an  o,.ter  cordon  in  the  park,  without  the  ring  of  sentinels.  Now,  cousin 
Selby,"  he  continued,  "  will  it  please  you  to  designate  a  chamber  where  all  the  house- 
hold  may  be  held  in  ward  until  our  search  is  ended.  Yourself  and  Mistress  Alice  will 
give  us,  I  doubt  not,  your  company  in  the  book-room  above." 


56  MARMADTTKEWYVIL; 

"  As  you  will,  cousin,"  answered  Selby ;  "  but,  as  I  told  you  yesterday,  you  are  giv- 
ing yourselves  much  needless  trouble  ;  for  surely  you  will  find  no  man  here,  but  we, 
who  are  even  now  assembled.  As  for  the  rest,  there  can  no  better  spot  be  chosen  than 
this  same  dining-hall — you  see  it  has  but  two  doors,  and  you  can  place  a  sentinel  at 
each,  inside  or  out,  as  you  think  best.  My  daughter  and  myself  will,  as  you  have  sug- 
gested, wait  your  convenience  in  my  study." 

"  Be  it  so,"  Chaloner  replied.  "  Now,  Colonel  Keating,  if  you  will  take  my  coun- 
sel, you  will  detail  a  small  guard  with  a  lancepesade  in  the  courtyard  without,  and  post 
a  cornet  or  lieutenant  at  either  of  these  doorways,  letting  none  have  egress  or  entrance. 
You  will  then  take  your  men  and  search  the  whole  house  thoroughly  ;  taking  especial 
care  to  do  no  damage,  and  replacing  whatever  furniture  or  hangings  you  may  be  forced 
to  move  from  their  position.  Looking  especially  for  sliding  panels,  false  chimney- 
backs,  moveable  pictures  and  the  like,  which  may  give  access,  and  do  often  in  such 
old  tenements  as  this,  to  hidden  galleries  and  chambers  wrought  in  the  thickness  ot 
the  wall.  Be  diligent,  I  pray  you,  and  leave  no  means  untried  to  find  what  you  suspect 
to  be  the  case.  Should  you  want  any  aid  or  counsel,  I  will  await  you  in  Master  Sel- 
by's  library ;  should  you  discover  aught,  pray  summon  me.  Here  are  the  keys  of  all 
the  chambers,  which  my  good  friend  has  voluntarily  given  up  to  me  ;  you  will  post  a 
small  party  at  every  corridor  and  landing  place,  that  the  concealed  malignants,  if  there 
be  any  here — which  I  doubt  much — may  not  dodge  to  and  fro,  and  so  escape  you.  I 
I  deem  it  best  you  should  commence  here  in  this  parlor — and  now  we  will  be  no  check 
on  your  movements." 

As  he  ceased  speaking,  he  offered  his  hand  to  Alice  and  led  her,  with  the  old  man 
following  them,  to  the  small  cheerful  chamber,  wherein  so  many  of  the  events  which 
it  has  been  our  lot  to  trace,  occurred  ;  and  there  the  trio,  seated  around  the  fire,  con- 
versed on  ordinary  topics  as  calmly  and  contentedly  as  though  no  search,  involving  life 
and  death,  was  going  on  within  the  walls — as  though  two  of  the  three,  who  sat  there, 
seemingly  so  happy,  had  not  their  hearts  pierced  to  the  very  core  by  strong  and  pas- 
sionate emotions.  Such  is  proverbially,  however,  the  course  of  all  things  human  ! 
such  the  deceitful  and  false  semblance  of  the  world  !  where  hardly  aught  is  real,  saving 
the  sin  and  sorrow  that  lurk  beneath  the  specious  glitter — the  foil  and  tinsel — of  that 
thin  gorgeous  tissue  which  men  think  fit  to  term  society !  Two  hours  perhaps  passed 
thus,  or  something  more,  when  Keating,  with  two  subalterns  came  in — a  dozen  privates 
halting  at  the  door — saying  that,  after  a  most  strict  and  tedious  search,  no  place  had 
been  discovered  wherein  a  mouse  even,  could  find  concealment. 

"  This  chamber  searched  then,  all  our  work  is  ended,"  Chaloner  answered  ;  "  but 
now  my  task  commences.  Now,  my  good  cousin,  may  I  request  you  to  remove  the 
panel,  which  hides  the  secret  passage.  Let  your  men  fetch  some  torches,  if  they  have 
got  none  with  them,  and  look  well  to  their  weapons,  Colonel  Keating,  and  to  the 
priming  of  their  carbines.  So,  you  will  not  disclose  it  ?  Well,  it  was  only  to  spare  time, 
I  asked  you  !  Here  lancepesade,  jump  on  those  steps,  and  take  out  all  the  volumes, 
which  fill  that  third  compartment — the  third  there  from  the  window !  I  saw  you  open 
it  once,  Master  Selby,  many  long  years  ago,  when  you  thought  no  one  marked  you. 
There,  that  is  it ;  now  tarry" — and  stepping  up  to  the  identical  place,  where  the  nail 
heads  and  screws  which  worked  the  springs  within  were  all  made  clearly  visible  by 
the  removal  of  the  books,  he  began  to  tamper  with  them,  and  after  some  considerable 
time,  succeeded ;  so  that  the  portion  of  the  wall  revolved,  and  the  mouth  of  the  low 
passage  was  disclosed  to  the  greedy  gaze  of  the  fierce  Ironsides 

"  Now  we  will  soon  see  what  is  hidden  !  Give  me  a  torch,  and  light  a  dozen  more  ; 
leave  three  men  at  the  entrance,  Colonel  Keating ;  you  and  the  others  follow  !"  and  with 
these  words  Chaloner  drew  his  rapier,  and  entered  the  dim  vault,  the  soldiers  rushing 
after  him,  with  brandished  swords,  and  blazing  flambeaus,  rejoicing,  as  it  seemed, 
already  in  contemplation  of  some  valuable  capture.  Far  stretched  those  long  and 
devious  corridors,  through  many  a  nook  and  labyrinthine  angle,  up  steep  long  flights  of 
utairs,  down  long  and  gradual  descents,  with  many  a  false  turn  leading  their  steps  astray 


OR,     THE     MAID'S     REVENGE.  53 

unresisting  hand.  She  knew  not  nhy  it  was  she  trembled ;  she  knew  not  why  it  was, 
she  could  not  meet  the  glance  ot  his  clear  brilliant  eye — she  was  unconscious  of  all 
cause  for  shame,  for  fear,  for  any  strong  emotion — yet  was  she  moved,  and  mightily  ! 
But  when,  just  as  she  closed  the  door,  she  cast  a  furtive  glance  between  her  half-closed 
lids  toward  the  cavalier,  she  saw  him  standing  in  an  attitude  of  deep  dejection,  with  his 
arms  hanging  idly  by  his  side,  and  his  fine  head  with  its  long  silky  love-locks  drooping 
despondently  upon  his  breast.  She  marked,  and  marvelled  at  this  singular  display  of 
feeling ;  and  with  a  fluttering  heart,  full  of  a  hundred  wild  and  whirling  fantasies,  she 
hastened  back,  locking  the  door  behind  her  ;  and  reached  the  quiet  library  all  agitated 
and  quite  breathless,  and  resumed  her  seat  on  the  sofa,  ere  any  one  had  discovered,  or 
even  suspected  her  absence. 

It  was  not,  however,  destined  that  she  should  pass  even  the  few  remaining  hours  of 
that  eventful  day  without  some  further  agitation  ;  for  she  had  not  been  many  minutes  in 
the  library  before  her  cousin  entered,  having  his  left  arm  in  a  silken  sling,  and  looking 
somewhat  pale  from  loss  of  blood,  although  he  walked  quite  firmly,  with  his  fine  form 
erect  and  graceful  as  its  wont — a  servant  came  in  with  him  bearing  a  lighted  lamp  with 
several  burners,  which  having  placed  upon  the  table,  he  at  once  withdrew ;  but  while 
he  was  yet  in  the  room,  Alice  had  sprung  up  from  the  sofa,  and  darting  forward,  seized 
Henry  by  the  unwounded  right  hand,  exclaiming,  as  she  did  so — 

"  Oh  !  I  am  so  rejoiced — so  more  than  glad  and  happy  to  see  you  thus  again,  dear, 
gallant  Henry !  for  I  had  feared  that  you  were  very  badly  hurt ;  and  had  anything  befallen 
you,  I  never  could  have  pardoned  myself  at  all,  for  it  was  owing  altogether  to  my  silly 
weakness,  in  fainting  the  very  moment  when  I  ought  to  have  been  most  collected.  It 
was  indeed  most  weak  and  childish,  but  in  truth  I  was  sadly  frightened ;  and  are  you 
not  so  much  hurt,  Henry  ?" 

"  Oh  no !"  he  answered,  gazing  with  an  enthusiastic  eye  upon  her  beautiful  pale 
face — "  oh  no !  not  hurt  at  all.  It  is  a  mere  scratch,  which  would  not  have  disabled 
me  in  the  least,  had  it  not  bled  so  copiously  that  it  made  me  too  something  faint,  which 
is  far  weaker  in  a  soldier  you  know,  Alice,  and  more  shameful,  than  in  a  pretty  lady ; 
who  is  entitled,  if  she  please,  to  faint  at  least  three  times  a  day  in  mere  caprice  and 
wantonness.  But  you  are  not,  I  know,  one  of  these  gew-gaw  puppets  of  the  court, 
who  die  away  at  a  warmer  ray  than  common  of  our  mild  English  sun,  and  shiver  at  the 
least  breath  of  the  fresh  breezy  air — you  are  not  one  of  these,  but  my  own  sweet  and 
gentle  cousin,  whom  I  hope  one  day" — dropping  his  voice  to  a  lower  and  more  tender 
tone — "  to  call  by  a  yet  dearer  title.  May  I  hope,  Alice  ?" 

For  a  single  moment,  so  suddenly  did  the  surprise  come  on  her,  every  drop  of  blood 
in  her  veins  appeared  to  rush  at  once  into  her  face  ;  but  in  an  instant  it  was  gone,  and  she 
was  pale  as  death,  even  to  her  lips  ;  and  so  icy-cold  and  shivering,  that  her  teeth  almost 
chattered. 

"  Alas  !"  cried  Chaloner,  quite  alarmed  at  the  effect  of  his  words — "  alas  !  I  have 
been  all  too  rash  and  hasty.  I  should  have  recollected,  dearest  one,  how  your  nerves 
have  been  shaken  by  this  morning's  terror — forget  it,  Alice,  forget  it  altogether,  or  think 
of  it  no  more  until  a  fitting  season" — and  as  he  spoke,  he  supported  her  to  the  sofa 
whence  she  had  risen  on  his  entrance,  and  knelt  beside  her,  holding  her  hands  in  his, 
and  striving  to  soothe  her  by  every  soft  and  delicate  attention,  entreating  her  to  rest, 
and  make  no  answer  for  the  present  to  his  ill-timed  address  ;  but  after  she  had  lain  a 
moment  or  two  on  the  soft  cushions,  she  sat  upright,  and  collecting  herself  with  an 
effort,  spoke  very  firmly — "  No !  no !"  she  said, "  I  must  speak  now — I  must  answer  fully— 
for,  Henry,  your  words  have  pained  me  very  deeply."  "  You  cannot — no,  you  cannot  be 
offended" — Chaloner  interrupted  her ;  but  before  he  could  finish  his  sentence,  she  in  her 
turn  broke  in — "  Oh, not  offended — but  pained — grieved — saddened — yes!  made  me  sick 
at  heart — sick  at  heart  for  you,  Henry,  and  sorry — ay  !  almost  doubtful  of  myself.  But, 
Henry,  Henry,"  she  continued,  increasing  in  vehemence  as  she  proceeded — "  as  God  is 
now  my  witness,  and  shall  hereafter  be  my  judge,  I  never  dreamed  of  this,  oh !  never, 
never !  and  now  that  it  has  broken  on  me  all  at  once— oh !  it  is  very  sad  and  terrible— 


£4  MARMADTTKE 

for  I  will  not  attempt  those  frail  and  commonplace,  and,  as  I  think,  insulting  modes  of 
consolation,  which  worldly  girls  may  offer  to  court-lovers — and  though  I  never  dreamed 
you  loved  me,  other  than  as  your  cousin,  your  good  little  Alice,  to  whom  you  have  at  all 
times  been  so  kind  and  gentle — now  that  I  do  know  it,  I  also  know  what  disappointed 
love  must  be,  to  such  a  heart  as  yours — a  heart,  which  if  it  love  at  all,  must  love 
devotedly,  and  with  its  all  of  energy  and  fire.  I  feel  what  it  must  be,  to  tell  you  that 
you  must  not  even  hope — and  feeling  so,  judge,  Henry,  judge  how  I  must  suffer,  when 
I  must  by  my  words  blight,  for  a  time  at  least,  the  promised  happiness  of  one  who — 
besides  that  I  love  him  most  dearly  as  a  true  friend,  a  valued,  proved,  kind  kinsman — 
has  this  day  saved  my  life,  and  more  !  my  honor,  at  fearful  peril  of  his  own  !  What 
must  I  suffer,  Henry,  Knowing  that  I  must  give  him  evil  for  his  good — and  kill  his 
hopes,  who  has  given  life  to  me  ?" 

"  Oh,  Alice — Alice,"  answered  Chaloner,  "  think  not  of  that  one  moment !  do  not — 
do  not,  I  pray  you,  fancy  for  one  moment  that  your  poor  kinsman  is  so  mean,  so  truly 
poor  of  spirit,  as  to  build  any  claim  on  what  the  humblest  varlet  in  your  household 
would  have  done  gladly  without  guerdon,  and  thought  it,  when  done,  but  as  his  own 
good  fortune.  The  little  service  I  did  you  this  forenoon  had  nothing  in  the  world  to 
do  with  what  I  said  to  you  but  now ;  save  that  it  set  me  thinking — made  me  consider 
how  wretched  I  should  have  been,  had  I  not  been  in  time  to  save  you — and  by  filling 
my  whole  heart  full  of  warm  thoughts,  all  unchained  and  run-riot,  led  me  to  speak  in 
words  what  I  have  long  since  felt  in  silence.  For  the  rest,  I  am  in  your  hand — do 
with  me  as  you  think  the  best — the  happiest  for  both." 

"  That  I  must  do,  although  it  rend  our  hearts  within  us  for  the  moment,  and  leave 
them  sore,  it  may  be,  and  tender  to  the  touch  of  passion,  for  many  a  day  hereafter. 
But  I  must  not,  dear  Henry,  I  must  not  do  myself — do  thee  so  foul  wrong,  as  to  let  any 
doubt  of  what  I  feel,  or  any  hope  remain,  beyond  this  moment.  The  truth  is,  Henry, 
I  cannot  be  your  wife — it  is  impossible — I  cannot !  Giving  you  all  regard,  all  friend- 
ship, all  esteem,  I  cannot  give  you  love.  Honoring  your  high  qualities  of  soul — your 
perfect  truth,  your  noble  upright  candor,  the  whiteness  of  your  spirit,  your  fearlessness, 
your  honor,  your  renown — admiring  your  bright  intellect,  your  deep  unworldly  wis. 
dom — loving  your  gentleness,  your  kindness,  your  soft  pitiful  good  heart — yet,  Henry, 
yet  I  cannot  love  you — love  you,  as  you  should — must  be  loved  by  her  who  calls  you 
husband — as  I  must  love  the  man  to  whom  I  give,  not  my  hand  only,  but  my  whole 
heart  and  mind  and  soul  here  and  for  ever.  I  am  a  wayward  girl,  dear  cousin ;  the 
spoiled  wild  orphan  of  my  dear  widowed  father;  and,  it  may  be  from  him — my  tutor, 
and  almost  my  nurse — that  I  have  caught  strange  fantasies — become  a  muser  from  my 
childhood,  and  a  day  shunner — a  lover  of  wild  haunts  and  wilder  legends,  a  creature 
of  romance  and  poesy  and  fancy.  Gifted,  I  fear  me,  with  a  dower  which  tends  not  to 
the  growth  of  real  and  substantial  bliss,  I  cannot  love,  unless  my  fancy  have  been  won, 
and  my  heart  through  that  fancy.  I  grieve  for  you,  dear  cousin,  I  grieve  for  you  with 
my  whole  strength — and  likewise  for  myself — for,  why  I  know  not,  there  is  a  something 
here  within  that  whispers  me  with  solemn  augury,  the  pain  which  J  now  give  another 
shall  be  mine  own  hereafter — the  bitter,  hard,  cold  anguish  of  unrequited  love.  I  shall 
know  nothing  more  of  happiness  until  I  see  you  happy." 

"At  least,  dear  Alice,"  Chaloner  answered — "at  least  you  shall  see  me  calm.  You 
have  dealt  by  me  nobly ;  and  never — never  will  I  forget  your  goodness.  To  say  I  am 
not  grieved  and  sorrowful  at  your  decision,  were  to  say  what  is  false — but,  Heaven  be 
praised !  I  have  a  hope ;  a  comforter  on  high — a  hope  that  will  not  let  me  be  cast  down 
by  any  mortal  anguish — a  comforter,  whose  consolations  are  most  nigh  when  they  are 
needed  most,  and  never  are  breathed  vainly  on  the  heart.  And  now,  before  we  part — 
for  this  has  been  an  agitating  day  for  both  of  us,  and  with  the  morrow  perchance  will 
come  new  troubles — let  me  say  to  you,  that  you  shall  never  lack  a  friend,  a  counsellor, 
a  guard,  and  a  defender,  while  life  is  warm  in  this  poor  bosom.  Never  fear,  Alice, 
never  fear  to  call  on  me  for  aid,  advice,  or  friendship.  Fear  not  that  by  so  doing  you 
will  awaken  vain  hopes,  or  call  forth  old  presumptions ;  for  now  I  understand  your  senti. 


Oft,     THE     MAID*S     REVENGE.  57 

and  ending  in  dead  walls,  or  guiding  them  back  to  the  spot  whence  they  came — far 
from  the  light  of  day — full  of  garnered  dust,  cobwebs,  and  filth  of  ages — the  atmosphere 
so  dense  with  foul  and  noxious  vapors  that  the  lights  waned,  and  some  went  out ;  and 
all  burned  blue  and  ghastly.  Yet  still  with  stanch  indomitable  perseverance  the  sol- 
diers struggled  onward.  Guards  had  been  posted  here  and  there  at  all  the  points  of 
intersection,  so  that,  when  at  the  last  they  reached  the  chamber,  having  been  upwards 
of  an  hour  in  traversing  a  distance  which  Alice,  knowing  the  real  clue,  would  have  ac- 
complished easily  within  ten  minutes,  there  were  but  four  of  the  privates  left  with 
Henry  and  the  three  officers. 

"  Ha !  we  have  reached  the  citadel  at  length,"  said  Chaloner — "  and  lo !  the  key  on 
the  outside,  suspended  to  the  staple  ;  I  doubt  we  have  but  lost  our  time  and  labor." 
•  He  unlocked  the  door,  as  he  spoke,  and  entered  the  little  cell,  which  had  the  night 
before  been  Wyvil's  hiding-place  ;  but  now  it  was  all  vacant  and  deserted — no  food,  or 
raiment — no  light,  or  other  token  of  any  human  visitant  was  to  be  found  in  its  narrow 
precincts — the  bed,  the  board,  the  stools,  the  shelves  against  the  wall,  and  the  few 
articles  that  were  piled  on  them,  were  covered  with  the  thick  white  dust — as  it  ap- 
peared— of  ages ;  feathers,  and  bits  of  flock,  and  clots  of  matted  cobwebs  were  scattered 
over  all  the  floor  and  walls — and  in  the  brazier  were  a  pile  of  cold  white  ashes,  which, 
as  the  disappointed  soldiers  swore,  had  not  been  lit  these  ten  years.  The  other  doors 
stood  open ;  and  for  form's  sake  alone — for  all  were  now  convinced  that  no  one  was 
concealed  at  all  within  the  building — those  passages  were  likewise  searched  ;  but  this 
was  speedily  accomplished  ;  and  when  they  found  that  the  first  staircase  ended  abruptly 
in  the  wall,  which  has  been  heretofore  described ;  and  that  the  doors  at  the  end  of  the 
others  were  locked  and  bolted  in  the  inside,  with  all  their  bars  and  chains  so  matted 
over  with  the  network  of  five  hundred  spiders,  that  they  had  evidently  not  been  removed 
for  many  months  at  least — then  they  gave  up  the  search  as  useless  ;  and  making  their 
way  back  to  the  library  with  far  more  -ease  than  they  had  come  in  the  first  instance, 
after  a  few  apologies  to  Master  Selby,  and  an  assurance  that  his  house  should  be  no 
further  troubled,  the  Ironsides  departed.  Then,  after  a  little  while,  Chaloner,  resisting 
all  Mark's  efforts  to  detain  him,  took  his  leave  also ;  convinced  as  fully  as  the  rest,  that 
his  kinsman  did  indeed  know  nothing  of  the  young  cavalier,  and  that  his  fears  on  his 
behalf  had  all  been  overstrained  and  needless. 

Within  two  hours,  the  same  cell  which  had  been  so  strictly  searched,  and  found  so 
sordid  and  neglected,  was  neatly  swept  and  garnished — the  board  was  spread  with  a 
clean  damask  cloth,  two  bright  wax-lights  were  burning  in  tall  candlesticks  of  silver,  a 
cheerful  fire  of  wood  was  crackling  in  the  brazier,  and  by  the  board  sat  Wyvil,  with  his 
long  hair  all  curled  and  arranged  carefully,  and  his  rich  dress  in  accurate  order,  sipping 
a  glass  of  rich  and  fragrant  Bordeaux  wine,  and  reading,  so  to  deceive  the  time,  a  huge 
romance  of  Calprenede  or  Scudery  ;  while  on  the  table  at  his  elbow  stood  several  plates 
and  trenchers,  with  the  remains  of  a  fat  roasted  capon,  and  the  long  flask  from  which 
he  ever  and  anon  replenished  his  Venetian  beaker — so  little  had  the  search  availed  to 
find  the  real  secrets  of  that  old  rambling  manor. 


CHAPTER   XII. 

FOR  many  days  after  the  second  search  of  the  Ironsides,  the  family  at  Woolvertori 
pursued,  as  it  would  seem,  untroubled  the  wonted  round  of  their  calm  quiet  daily  avo- 
cations. No  visitor  disturbed  the  even  tenor  of  their  way ;  no  stranger  came  within 
their  gates.  The  good  old  man,  whose  age,  and  the  well  known  seclusion  of  his  habits, 
should  have  exempted  him,  in  the  opinion  even  of  his  few  Puritan  neighbors,  from  any 
such  suspicion  as  would  have  justified  a  search,  returned,  apparently  scarce  conscious 
of  their  violent  interruption,  to  his  old  bookworm  customs  ;  and  read,  and  pondered, 
and  dreamed  days  away ;  and  wrote  huge  volumes  on  abstruse  and  crabbed  points  of 


58  MARMADT7KEVYVIT,; 

classical  lore— volumes,  which  it  would  glad  the  heart  of  many  a  Regius  professor  now 
to  discover,  but  which  were  never  destined  to  see  the  light  of  any  broader  sun,  than 
that  which  stole  in  through  the  shadowed  casements  of  their  perhaps  too  unambitious 
author's  study.  Never,  except  at  meal-times,  or  when  some  message  of  slight  moment 
summoned  a  servant  to  his  library,  was  he  seen  even  by  his  own  household,  saving  that 
once  or  twice,  when  the  clear  radiance  of  some  brighter  morning  than  was  common  at 
that  season,  invited  her  forth  to  inhale  the  fresh  breezy  air  of  autumn,  Alice  persuaded 
him  to  don  his  sad-colored  riding  cloak  and  broad-leafed  beaver,  and  lend  her  the  sup- 
port— mere  nominal  support  indeed,  and  worse  than  useless,  had  any  need  occurred  to 
make  it  requisite — of  his  frail  arm.  Then  for  an  hour  or  two  at  a  time,  he  might  have 
been  seen  loitering  by  the  side  of  his  fair  daughter  beneath  the  shade  of  his  old  elm- 
trees,  or  sitting  on  a  bench  of  stone,  under  the  southern  wall,  to  solace  himself  with 
the  faint  beams  of  the  September  sun  ;  while  she,  not  far  aloof,  tended  in  her  parterres 
some  bright  late-flowering  survivor  of  the  summer,  and  stripped  away  its  withered 
leaves,  or  fitted  it  by  her  neat-handed  preparations  to  meet  the  coming  winter. 

At  times  too,  though  less  often  than  before  her  perilous  adventure  in  the  park,  she 
went  her  rounds  among  the  village  poor,  dispensing  comforts,  and  working  that  sweet 
gratitude  which  ever  greets  calm  and  unostentatious  charity,  through  every  cottage,  how 
poor  and  sad  soever  it  might  be,  of  which  she  crossed  the  threshold — but  now  instead  of  the 
old  superannuated  servant,  who  had  been  used  to  follow  her  steps — as  he  had  done  her 
mother's,  many  a  year  before — on  all  her  merciful  errands,  the  treasures  of  her  labora- 
tory were  carried  by  an  athletic  broad-shouldered  young  fellow,  whose  broadsword  girded 
on  his  thigh,  with  the  small  buckler  swinging  from  his  left  shoulder,  would  have  proved 
a  far  more  efficient  guard  against  marauders,  than  the  oak  staff  and  feeble  hand  of  poor 
old  Jeremy.  Two  or  three  times,  indeed,  she  took  wing,  as  it  were,  for  a  longer  flight ; 
and  then  the  country  people  looked  on  with  an  admiring  eye,  a  smile  on  every  lip,  and 
a  blessing  on  every  tongue,  as  she  swept  through  the  soft  green  lanes  on  her  dapple-gray 
palfry,  with  two  grooms  galloping  behind  her,  and  a  whole  host  of  dogs — Talbot  the 
mighty  bloodhound,  and  Cynthia  the  soft  silky  setter,  and  Romp  and  Rupert,  thorough- 
bred Blenheims  botn,  and  half  a  dozen  others,  sporting  about  her  pony's  feet,  as  she 
rode  forth  to  visit,  at  rare  intervals,  the  ladies  of  some  neighboring  family — the  Foleys, 
or  the  Fairfaxes,  which  last,  although  strict  Presbyterians,  had  ever  been  dose  friends, 
while  she  was  yet  alive,  of  her  lost  mother.  Still  these  were  but  exceptions,  for  it  was 
very  seldom,  comparatively  speaking,  that  Alice  left  at  all  the  precincts  of  the  park ;  and 
even  within  these,  it  began  to  be  noticed  by  the  old  servants — licensed  gossips  of  the 
household — that  she  was  less  often  visible  than  of  yore  ;  and  that  a  far  greater  portion 
of  her  time  was  passed  in  the  seclusion  of  her  father's  study — strange  choice  for  a  young 
lively  girl !  for,  heretofore,  she  had  been  very  lively,  and  even  mirthful ;  but  now,  it 
could  not  fail  to  be  observed  that  she  was  greatly  changed ;  that  her  young  lip  was 
seldom  visited  by  smiles ;  that  a  subdued  and  conscious  expression  pervaded  her  bright 
eyes,  and  sunny  lineaments — an  expression,  not  of  grief  at  all,  nor  of  thought  altogether, 
but  of  deep  pensive  feeling.  It  might  be  of  hope  tremulous  and  deferred ;  it  might  be 
of  that  half-real,  half-ideal  melancholy,  which  is  not  all  unusual  to  spirits  of  an  imagina- 
tive and  poetic  temperament ;  or  it  might  be  perhaps  the  dawning  of  deeper  thoughts, 
and  warmer  passions,  that  cast  like  coming  events,  their  dim  prescient  shadow  over  the 
tablets  of  her  virgin  mind,  reflected  thence  on  eye,  and  brow,  and  lip,  and  every  speaking 
feature. 

Much  of  her  tune  was,  indeed,  passed  now  within  the  library,  so  far  at  least  as  the 
domestics  had  the  means  of  knowing  ;  but  she  and  her  old  father  alone  knew  where 
and  how  it  was  consumed.  For  his  years,  and  disinclination  to  taking  any  active 
exercise,  had  speedily  induced  Mark  Selby  to  delegate  to  his  sweet  daughter  the  task 
of  daily  visiting  their  concealed  guest,  nor  did  he  in  truth  again  seek  the  crypt  after  the 
Ironsides  had  searched  it.  From  that  time  forth,  then,  it  became  the  task  of  Alice  to 
see  him  each  succeeding  day,  ministering  to  his  wants,  soothing  his  sorrows,  cherishing 
his  high  hopes  of  brighter  fortunes  in  the  future,  and  forming,  as  it  were,  the  sole  con* 


OR,     THE     MAID'S     REVENGE.  59 

necting  link  between  the  bright  external  world,  and  the  dull  prison-house  of  the  proscribed 
and  hapless  cavalier.  For  several  days,  at  first,  it  needed  a  strong  effort,  ere  she  could 
task  herself  to  the  performance  of  a  duty,  which,  if  she  did  not  feel  it  altogether  irksome, 
to  say  the  least  was  both  embarrassing  and  painful ;  but  gradually,  as  the  restraint  of  a 
recent  and  irregular  acquaintance  faded  away  and  was  forgotten — and  this  occurred  the 
sooner,  that  on  no  subsequent  occasion  did  Marmaduke  discover  any  of  that  affected 
and  half-flippant  gallantry  which  had  almost  offended  her  in  their  first  interview — and 
as  she  learned  to  look  upon  it  as  a  thing  of  course,  she  began  slowly  and,  as  it  were, 
half  reluctantly  to  take  a  lively  interest  in  her  imprisoned  guest ;  looking  forward  when 
she  must  seek  his  cell  with  a  sort  of  excitement,  and  regarding  the  young  man  himself 
— as  women  ever  regard  anything,  whether  it  be  the  tame  bird,  or  the  pet  spaniel, 
or  beloved  infant,  to  the  safety  of  which  their  care  is  essential — with  an  uncertain  half- 
affectionate  solicitude  ;  which,  while  she  could  not  altogether  affect  even  in  the  depths 
of  her  own  secret  heart  to  misunderstand  or  deny  it,  she  could  neither  discard  from  her 
bosom,  nor  confess  to  her  inquiring  conscience. 

It  became,  moreover,  so  very  soon  unquestionably  evident  that  Wyvil  looked  upon 
those  brief  hours,  stolen  as  it  were  from  solitude,  as  constituting  his  whole  day,  all  the 
rest  being  one  dull  dreary  blank ;  and  so  respectful  and  considerate  was  the  tone  of  his 
admiration,  so  delicately  gentle  his  attention,  so  proudly  humble  the  earnestness  with 
which  he  supplicated  her  to  bestow  upon  him,  in  mere  charity,  as  many  of  her  leisure 
moments  as  she  could  spare  from  more  pleasurable  occupations  ;  that  it  was  not  in 
woman's  nature  but  to  feel  gratified  and  pleased  by  evidences  of  his  esteem  and  grati- 
tude, so  natural  and  unforced  in  their  development.  There  could  not  have  been,  in 
fact  devised — had  it  been  the  aim  of  any  social  Macchiavelli  to  frame  wily  schemes  for 
that  purpose — any  more  dangerous  artifice  for  ensnaring  the  affections  of  a  young  ardent 
and  romantic  girl,  than  this  entire  abandonment  of  her  whole  time,  her  thoughts,  her 
fancy,  to  the  discretion,  as  it  were,  of  a  brave,  dashing,  captivating  gallant ;  and  that 
too,  under  circumstances  beyond  all  others  calculated  to  work  on  the  imagination,  to 
rouse  the  dormant  sensibilities,  and  through  the  blended  influences  of  pity  and  protec- 
tion to  reach  the  heart  of  woman.  It  would  perhaps  at  first  sight,  seem  a  paradoxical 
remark,  and  one  susceptible  of  easy  refutation,  to  say  that  all  men,  and  yet  more,  all 
women,  are  readier  to  attach  themselves  to  those  whom  they  have  aided,  than  to  per- 
sons who  have  claims  upon  their  love  or  gratitude  from  benefits  conferred,  or  onerous 
obligations  ;  but  we  are  certain  that  the  more  fully  this  shall  be  considered,  the  more 
it  will  be  found  that  it  is  true  and  natural.  Why  this  should  be,  it  is  not  for  us  to 
investigate  at  present ;  but  throughout  the  whole  range  of  human  nature,  the  same 
strange  contradiction,  as  it  seems,  will  be  found  prevalent.  The  children  of  her  agony 
and  sorrow  are  dearer — dearer  a  thousand  fold  to  the  young  nursing  wife,  than  the 
mother  who  brought  her  forth  in  suffering,  and  watched  her  infancy  with  tearful  eager- 
ness of  hope,  and  cherished  her  fair  youth  with  tender  and  solicitous  affection.  In  this, 
perchance,  may  lie  the  germ  of  all  the  matter ;  from  this  instinctive  natural  devotion  of 
woman  to  those  who  are  dependent,  and  whom  they  love,  as  it  would  seem,  the  more 
from  the  very  helplessness  of  that  dependence,  perchance  may  spring  that  tendency  in 
all  our  race  to  love,  we  will  not  say  their  benefactors  less,  but  those  whom  they  have 
benefited  more.  Be  this,  however,  as  it  may,  the  fact  will  be  found  to  be  as  we  have 
stated  it ;  and  for  one  girl  who  gives  her  whole  heart  up  to  one  whose  claims  to  her 
regard  are  based  on  gratitude  for  services  performed,  nine  yield  their  love  to  men  whom 
they  have  heard  maligned,  and  so  defended — whom  they  have  succored  in  distress,  or 
what  is  the  same  thing,  whom  they  imagine  they  have  succored. 

And  so  at  last  did  it  fall  out  with  Alice  Selby — predisposed,  from  the  share  she  had 
already  taken  in  his  fortunes,  from  the  very  perils  she  had  incurred,  and  from  the  un- 
certainty of  his  final  destinies,  to  feel  an  interest  in  the  young  cavalier  whom  she  had 
saved  from  death — when  she  found  him  afterwards  intrusted  wholly  to  her  care,  de- 
pending on  her  discretion  for  his  life,  on  her  attentive  ministering  for  his  subsistence 
day  by  day,  on  her  society  for  his  sole  intercourse  with  the  fair  world — that  interest 


60 

was  naturally  increased  tenfold !  And  then  his  eloquence,  his  bravery,  his  gratitude 
expressed  in  words  of  living  fire — his  noble  person  and  high  intellectual  features — all 
the  advantages  which  nature  gave  him,  and  sedulous  accomplishment  had  carried  for- 
ward  to  their  utmost  limit — all  these  things,  cast  as  it  were  before  her  feet,  witnessed 
by  her  alone,  called  forth  as  it  appeared  for  her  sole  use,  profusely  lavished  for  her 
pleasure  ;  had,  as  they  needs  must  have,  their  due  and  full  effect.  It  must  not  be  sup- 
posed, however,  that  Alice  was  won  easily,  or  that  she  was  indeed  won  at  all ;  for  not 
a  word  of  love  had  ever  passed  between  the  pair,  nor  is  it  in  the  least  probable  that  so 
much  as  a  thought  of  it  had  as  yet  crossed  her  innocent  mind ;  since  it  may  be  deemed 
certain  that  if  anything  of  the  kind  had  once  suggested  itself,  her  jealous  bashfulness 
would  have  at  once  taken  the  alarm,  and  by  rendering  her  aware  of  danger,  would 
simultaneously  have  rendered  that  danger  quite  innocuous.  It  is  true  that  she  thought 
Wyvil,  as  indeed  he  was,  the  most  accomplished  and  high-toned  gentleman  she  had 
ever  yet  encountered ;  she  admitted  to  herself  that  he  was  the  most  agreeable  ;  that  his 
conversation,  enriched  as  it  was  with  anecdote,  sparkling  with  brilliant  humor,  pervaded 
by  a  rich  vein  of  feeling,  strong  and  poetical  and  tinged  not  slightly  with  romance,  was 
the  most  captivating  to  the  senses  of  any  she  had  ever  listened.  Then,  too,  his  feelings 
were  conveyed  to  her  ear  through  the  medium  of  perhaps  the  most  perfect  voice  that 
ever  breathed  its  fascination  into  a  woman's  soul — it  was  rich,  deep,  well-timed,  yet 
soft  as  summer  music,  and  it  had  too  that  peculiar  spell  of  music  which  caused  its  every 
tone  to  haunt  the  hearer's  brain,  like  a  remembered  tune  heard  suddenly  after  long  years  of 
absence — and  there  is  certainly  no  fascination  so  vast  as  that  embodied  in  a  sweet 
powerful  cultivated  voice.  She  saw  that  he  was  handsome,  likewise — but  that,  as  is 
ever  the  case  with  women  of  that  class  and  station  in  the  world  whose  love  is  in  the 
least  worth  having,  had  scarce  availed  him  anything  with  Alice,  unless  he  had  been 
gifted  eminently,  as  in  good  truth  he  was,  with  all  the  noble  treasures  of  intellectual 
manhood.  And  from  all  these  things  it  resulted,  by  a  most  natural  consequence,  that — 
although  she  had  never  yet  thought  of  the  man  at  all,  except  as  feeling  that  in  some 
degree  his  presence  and  society,  which  in  the  beginning  she  had  so  much  dreaded,  had 
even  now  become  a  pleasure ;  and  pitying  his  endangered  fortunes — the  beautiful 
young  woman  was  half  in  love  already,  and  quite  prepared  to  wake  at  once  into  the 
consciousness  of  passion,  when  any  casual  word,  or  trifling  accident  should  break  her 
day-dream  of  security. 

So  stood  affairs  at  Woolverton,  when  a  full  fortnight  after  the  visit  of  the  Ironsides, 
on  a  still  gleamy  afternoon,  when  all  the  world  was  dressed  out  in  its  brightest  guise  of 
beauty,  and  everything  on  earth,  in  heaven,  was  peaceful  and  at  rest ;  sweet  Marian 
Rainsford  was  seen  traversing  the  park,  her  slight  and  delicate  figure  shrouded  in  a 
loose  cloak  of  dark  blue  woollen,  and  her  soft  brown  hair  covered  by  a  deep  gipsy 
hat  of  home-made  straw  ;  and  asking  at  the  gate  for  Misstress  Alice,  was  instantly  ad- 
mitted  to  her  presence,  and  that  without  creating  any  wonder  or  surmise,  for  her  blind 
aged  step-mother  and  the  poor  idiot  were  special  favorites  of  the  young  lady ;  and 
rarely  did  she  pass  a  second  day,  without  either  seeing  them  or  hearing  of  their  welfare. 

"  Well,  Marian,"  exclaimed  Alice — "  well ;"  how  fares  your  mother,  and  how  poor 
helpless  Martin  ?  I  should  have  been  down  one  day  this  week  to  visit  you,  but  that  I 
have  been  so  engaged  at  home,  that  I  have  really  lacked  leisure." 

"  They  are  as  well,  my  dear  young  lady,  as  they  can  ever  be  this  side  the  grave," 
replied  the  fair  young  widow ;  "  but  it  is  not  on  their  account  that  I  have  come  to  seek 
you;  I  know,  too,  that  you  have  been  close  engaged  at  home — and  I  believe  I  know 
how  likewise — or  if  I  do  not  know,  I  at  least  have  a  shrewd  guess  at  it — nay  !  lady, 
answer  me  not,  I  pray  you ;  but  listen  to  my  errand,  for  I  have  much  to  tell  you,  and 
you  must  act  as  you  deem  best,  when  you  have  heard  all  I  have  got  to  say.  The  ped- 
dler Bartram,  of  whom  you  have  bought,  I  think,  wares  at  sundry  times,  is  at  the  Stag's 
Head  since  last  night,  and  on  his  part  I  come  to  you." 

"  To  me,  from  Master  Bartram !  but  wherefore,  wherefore,  my  good,  Marian  ?" 
asked  Alice,  blushing  deeply  as  she  spoke,  and  endeavoring  to  avoid — she  scarce  knew 
why— the,  quiet  melancholy  eye  of  her  young  visitor, 


OR,     THE     MAID'S     REVENGE.  61 

"  Oh !  you  may  trust  me,  dearest  lady  ;  surely  you  cannot  doubt  that  you  may  trust 
me  !  for  have  not  I  too  suffered  in  the  same  cause,  and  does  not  that  one  bond  of  suffering 
link  me  more  closely  to  my  fellows  in  that  sorrow,  than  any  ties  that  earth  has  now  to 
hold  me  ?  I  would  give  everything  but  life,  myself,  to  buy  his  safety  for  this  young 
gallant  gentleman — and  life  itself  how  joyfully !  were  there  not  those  yet  living  to 
whom  that  life  is  needful.  But  think  not  that  I  wish  to  pry  into  your  secret,  if  you 
have  one — I  only  speak  to  let  you  see  my  mind,  and  understand  my  motives.  And 
now,  this  is  mine  errand.  Bartram  is  at  the  Stag's  Head  now,  or  will  be  there  anon, 
and  bade  me  say  to  you,  he  has  obeyed  your  father's  bidding,  and  all  is  well-nigh  ready. 
But  he  must  see  you,  lady,  either  at  our  poor  house,  or  in  the  little  park  beyond  the 
river,  after  it  is  quite  dark  this  very  evening — he  dare  not  come  up  to  the  Hall  upon 
this  business." 

"  Oh,  now  I  understand  you,"  answered  Alice — "  I  understand  you  now  quite  well. 
But  tell  me,  Marian,  has  Bartram  explained  nothing  to  you  of  all  this  ?" 

"  Not  a  word,  Mistress  Alice,  though  he  said  he  did  not  doubt  I  should  understand  ; 
and  that  very  likely  you  would  trust  me  with  the  whole." 

"  But  I  will  not,"  said  Alice — "  I  will  not,  Marian ;"  then  seeing  instantly  that  an  ex- 
pression,  not  of  vexation  or  offended  pride,  but  of  regret  and  disappointment  was  writ- 
ten legibly  on  the  young  widow's  speaking  features,  she  added  with  a  smile,  "  not  that 
I  have  the  least  doubt  of  your  faith  and  truth,  or  the  least  fear  of  your  prudence,  but 
that  such  confidences  are  very  dangerous  to  those  who  are  intrusted  ;  and  I  would  not 
involve,  without  the  plea  of  strong  necessity,  another  in  the  risk  which  I  run  myself 
willingly.  If  need  be  however,  Marian,  be  quite  sure  I  will  trust  you.  But  now,  how 
to  arrange  this  meeting  will  be,  I  fear  me,  not  so  easy.  Who  knows  of  Bartram's  pres- 
ence hereabout  ?" 

"  No  one  at  all,"  Marian  replied,  "  except  myself  so  far,  for  he  tapped  at  my  case- 
ment long  past  midnight,  and  bade  me  let  him  in  quite  silently;  and  I  did  so  at  once, 
for  I  guessed  partly  what  he  was  about ;  and  after  he  had  charged  me  with  this  mes- 
sage, he  sat  beside  the  kitchen  fire  till  it  was  nearly  daylight,  and  then  letting  himself 
out  of  the  back  door,  locked  it  after  him,  and  flung  the  key  into  my  window.  He  has 
gone  now,  I  well  believe,  to  farmer  Sherlock's  ;  but  he  will  be  back  before  nightfall, 
and  I  have  left  the  lattice  open  in  the  two-story  parlor  to  the  rear,  that  he  may  climb  the 
park  wall,  by  the  elm  trees,  and  thence  mount  into  the  house  unseen.  Then  I  will  carry 
him  your  answer,  and  he  will  meet  you  where  you  will." 

"  In  the  park,  then,"  said  Alice — "  in  the  park,  under  the  large  oak  tree,  beyond  the 
third  foot-bridge  ;  there  I  will  wait  for  him  from  seven  of  the  clock." 

"  I  know  not,"  answered  Marian — "  I  know  not.  I  do  not  think  the  park  so  over 
safe  ;  they  say  stone  walls  have  ears,  and  on  my  word  I  think  green  leaves  have  ears 
and  eyes  too  now  a-days.  For  as  I  came  across  the  little  park,  just  by  the  very  tree  you 
mention,  there  is,  if  you  forget  not,  a  small  steep  hollow  place,  an  old  sandpit  or  quarry, 
quite  overgrown  with  weeds  and  bushes  ;  just  as  I  passed  the  brink  of  it,  I  heard  a  kind 
of  scraping  sound,  as  if  some  person  were  dragging  himself  on  his  breast  along  the 
ground,  and  then  a  rustle  as  if  of  branches  parted  by  a  strong  careful  hand  ;  so  I  looked 
round  quite  naturally,  not  as  if  I  had  heard  anything,  and  made  believe  to  call  a  little 
dog ;  but  I  saw  quite  distinctly  two  full  dark  eyes  gleaming  out  from  among  the  tangled 
thorns  and  briers.  I  took  no  notice  then,  however,  for  I  perceived  at  once  that  I  could 
not  discover  any  more  of  the  features,  but  passed  on  a  few  paces  farther,  and  then  turned 
round  again  and  chirruped  for  the  dog,  though  I  had  no  dog  with  me  ;  that  time  I  got 
rather  a  fairer  view,  and  saw  the  whole  of  the  man's  face — for  a  man  it  was — although 
he  did  not  think  I  saw  him !  A  grim  and  truculent  countenance  as  I  ever  beheld,  with 
a  close  crop  of  foxy  hair,  and  the  most  evil  aspect  in  the  eye  you  can  imagine.  I  am 
sure  too,  that  I  have  seen  the  face  before,  though  where  or  when  I  cannot  bring  to  mind. 
It  seems  to  me,  though,  that  it  was  not  long  since  ;  and  I  cannot  but  think  it  was  con- 
nected with  some  painful  scene  or  other.  I  have  been  tasking  myself  ever  since  to  try 
and  recollect,  but  I  cannot  do  so,  were  it  to  save  my  life.  Of  this,  however,  I  am  as. 


62  MARMADTTBE    WYVIL* 

sured,  that  he  lay  there  in  wait  for  somebody  or  other !  I  think  the  better  way  would  be, 
dear  Mistress  Alice,  that  I  should  leave  you  now,  and  come  back  somewhat  suddenly 
when  it  is  growing  dark ;  then  you  may  take  a  servant  or  two  armed  with  you,  and 
they  can  wait  in  the  kitchen  while  I  lead  you  up  stairs,  as  if  to  see  the  children  or 
Martin,  who,  to  say  truth,  is  somewhat  ailing." 

"  I  see,"  said  Alice,  after  a  moment's  thought — "  I  see,  and  think  as  you  do.  This  is 
unpleasant  news,  however,  concerning  the  spy  in  the  park,  if  spy  he  be — but  might  he 
not  have  been  a  poacher,  lying  in  wait  for  the  deer,  think  you,  Marian  ?" 

"  I  think  not,  lady,"  she  replied ;  "  there  was,  I  know  not  what,  that  made  me  think 
of  homicide  or  treason  in  his  eye — he  had  not  the  dare-devil  look  of  a  deer-stealer.  It 
was  a  hypocritical,  bad,  downcast  visage,  as  ever  man  wore  on  his  shoulders  !" 

"  Well,  'tis  too  late  to  look  to  this  to-day — to-morrow  he  shall  be  seen  after.  In  the 
mean  time  do  as  you  have  suggested,  Marian ;  come  for  me  about  six  o'clock,  and 
Charles  and  Launcelot  shall  go  with  us.  You  will  return  by  the  road,  will  you  not  ?" 

"  That  would  be  unwise,  lady  ;  and  if  he  be  a  spy,  might  lead  him  to  suspect  some- 
thing, and  so  to  change  his  ground.  Besides,  it  is  quite  clear  that  I  have  nothing  to  ap- 
prehend ;  he  had  me  in  his  power  before,  had  he  thought  fit  to  harm  me.  No,  I  will 
go  back  as  I  came  ;  and  see,  I  brought  my  empty  basket  for  an  excuse,  and  I  will  get 
it  filled  with  simples  by  dame  Trueman,  and  go  my  way,  my  errand  being  done." 

"  But  stay,  but  stay  a  moment,"  Alice  cried  ;  "  and  tell  me  what  ails  Martin  ?" 

"  Oh,  in  good  sooth,  not  much — but  he  is  altered  greatly  since  that  bad  officer  en- 
treated him  so  rudely,  and  since  the  soldiers  killed  his  mastiff;  and  he  sleeps  not  so 
much  in  the  day  time,  nor  is  so  quiet,  but  has  become  a  rambler  of  late,  which  he  never 
was  before ;  wandering  off  into  the  woodlands  for  whole  days,  starting  so  soon  as  the 
sun  rises,  and  sometimes  not  returning  until  the  moon  is  up  ;  and,  though  he  brings 
back  poppies  and  late  field-flowers,  and  sometimes  blackberries  and  hips  and  haws,  I 
think  it  is  not  after  these  he  roams  abroad ;  for  I  do  fancy  that  the  expression  of  his  eye 
is  changed  too,  and  that  not  for  the  better  !  he  wears  a  cunning  and  suspicious  glance 
at  times,  and  seems  for  ever  as  he  were  seeking  to  track  some  one  to  a  hiding  place  ; 
but  yet  it  may  be  nothing  but  my  fancy.  We  tried  at  first,  when  he  took  up  this  habit, 
to  confine  him ;  but  then  he  had  such  awful  fits  and  paroxysms  that  we  were  forced  to 
let  him  go  his  own  way,  trusting  his  welfare  unto  Him  '  who  tempereth  the  wind  to  the 
shorn  lamb.'  I  hope,  however,  that  I  am  in  the  wrong  about  his  change  of  temper — I 
hope  it  is  my  fancy." 

"  Mere  fancy ;  Marian,  be  sure  of  it,"  answered  Alice,  rising  ;  "  and  now  farewell, 
and  recollect  to  call  for  me  ;"  and,  as  she  spoke,  she  led  her  out  to  the  stair-head  where 
the  servants  might  hear  what  she  said,  and  shaking  her  warmly  by  the  hand — "  well, 
good  bye,"  she  continued ;  "pray  get  those  things  you  want  from  Trueman  as  you  go, 
and  don't  forget  to  come  for  me,  should  Martin  have  another  seizure.  I  will  go  with 
you  at  a  moment's  notice  :"  and  then  they  parted,  Alice  to  seek  her  father's  study  and 
there  request  his  counsel,  and  Marian  to  hurry  home,  with  fearless  port  but  trembling 
heart,  along  the  path  which  she  believed  waylaid  by  lurking  ruffians. 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

IT  was  not  altogether  without  some  trepidation,  if  not  positive  alarm,  that  Marian 
Rainsford  hurried  homeward  ;  for,  in  spite  of  her  strong  natural  sense,  and  her  convic- 
tion that  no  evil  was  intended  toward  herself  by  the  man  she  had  seen  in  the  park ;  it 
was  still  a  position  quite  sufficiently  alarming  to  be  at  the  mercy  of  an  unknown  indi- 
vidual, whose  motives,  to  judge  from  his  demeanor,  could  scarcely  be  compatible  with 
uprightness  or  honor.  That  portion  of  the  park,  too,  was  very  solitary ;  and  indeed 
was  but  rarely  visited,  except  by  the  forester  on  his  appointed  rounds,  as  had  been 
proved  by  the  boldness  of  the  late  attack  on  Alice  Selby— a  boldness  well-nigh  justified 


OR,     THE     MAID'S     REVENGE.  63 

by  that  gilder  of  all  human  actions,  ultimate  success.  The  youthful  widow  was, 
however,  of  a  temperament  which,  naturally  calm  and  self-restrained,  had  been  yet 
further  schooled  by  hard  and  sad  experience  ;  she  had  thought  on  many  subjects,  and 
rarely  indeed  acted  now  on  impulse ;  the  same  cool  foresight,  therefore,  which  had 
made  her  determined  to  return  homeward  by  the  same  path  which  she  had  taken  in 
going  out,  the  better  to  deceive  the  lurking  spy — who,  if  he  were  indeed  a  spy,  must  be 
presumed  acquainted  with  her  person  and  her  dwelling-place — taught  her,  that  to  avoid 
the  danger,  she  must  avoid  showing  fear  of  it ;  so  with  a  quiet  easy  air,  and  with  a 
step  slower,  if  anything,  than  common — though  it  must  be  admitted  that  her  heart 
thrilled  painfully,  and  that  her  ear  marked  every  trivial  sound — she  neared  the  brink  of 
the  old  sandpit.  Nothing  occurred,  however,  to  disturb  her  self-possession ;  nor  did  she 
see  or  hear  aught  which  could  be  held  to  betoken  the  presence  of  a  living  being ;  if  it 
were  not  a  thin  blue  wreath  of  vapor,  which  curled  up  lazily  out  of  the  tangled  brush, 
wood  that  fringed  the  verge  and  all  the  steep  sides  of  the  little  quarry  ;  and  which  when 
she  had  seen  it  from  a  distance,  her  eye,  unpracticed  to  such  accidents — as  a  painter 
might  have  termed  the  effect — had  confounded  with  the  evening  mists  already  floating 
up  all  gray  and  ghastly  around  the  damp  and  marshy  woodland.  As  she  passed  by, 
however,  she  instantly  detected  its  true  character,  and  yet  she  misinterpreted  its 
meaning ;  for  as  she  could  not  catch — although  she  listened  with  her  every  sense  on 
the  alert — the  slightest  sound  of  conversation,  she  came  to  the  conclusion,  that  those 
who  had  lighted  the  fire  for  their  own  purposes  had  ere  now  left  the  spot ;  the  rather 
that  a  robin  perched  in  full  sight  upon  a  leafless  bough,  was  warbling  his  simple  tune 
within  ten  paces  of  the  place  whence  the  blue  smoke  was  rising  into  the  evening  air, 
and  that  two  large  and  lazy  hares  were  pasturing  quite  fearlessly  beside  the  pathway. 
This  error,  for  error  it  was,  had  well-nigh  led  her  into  very  serious  peril ;  for  she  was 
on  the  point  of  going  forward  to  examine  the  ground,  when  suddenly,  she  scarce  knew 
why,  a  sense  of  terror  fell  upon  her,  and  she  moved  onward  at  her  wonted  pace  till  she 
had  passed  the  nearest  clump  of  trees,  and  then  she  fairly  took  to  her  heels,  and  never 
ceased  from  running  until  she  reached  home,  breathless,  but  uninjured.  Lucky  it  was, 
indeed,  for  her,  that  she  did  not  leave  the  beaten  track — lucky,  that  she  did  not  even 
pause — for  the  song  of  the  bird,  and  the  lazy  tameness  of  the  hare  indicated  not  that 
that  there  were  no  human  beings  near  at  hand,  for  such  was  not  the  case,  but  only  that 
they  had  made  no  movement  recently— it  being  characteristic  of  such  animals  to  enter, 
tain  no  fears,  even  of  the  great  tyrant  man,  so  long  as  he  sits  or  stands  motionless  and 
silent.  Lucky  it  was  indeed — if  that  may  be  called  lucky,  which  was  the  result  of 
forethought  more  than  of  any  accident  or  chance — since  at  that  very  moment,  sheltered 
from  view  by  the  precipitous  banks  of  sandy  gravel  and  the  thick  bushes  overhanging 
them,  three  strong  and  ruffian-looking  men  were  seated  round  the  fire  which  sent  up 
the  thin  smoke  that  had  caught  Marian's  notice. 

It  was  a  singular  and  exceedingly  well-chosen  spot  for  an  ambuscade  or  post  of  espial, 
for  you  might  pass  within  ten  feet  of  its  brink,  without  imagining  that  there  was  any- 
thing  more  than  a  small  shallow  basin  full  of  brushwood  ;  while  in  reality  it  was  a  deep 
and  abrupt  pit,  with  sheer-cut  sides  of  nearly  twenty  feet,  whence  at  some  distant  period 
the  sand-stone  had  been  quarried  for  purposes  of  rural  architecture.  It  was  indeed 
quite  small,  not  above  fifteen  yards  in  length  by  half  that  width,  and  so  luxuriantly  had 
the  broom  and  evergreen  furze  shot  forth  from  the  brink  of  its  banks,  that  they  almost 
entirely  overcanopied  it.  The  ground  in  this  quarter  of  the  park  was  broken  into 
abrupt  rounded  hillocks,  and  this  pit  had  been  sunk  in  one  of  these,  close  to  the  crest 
of  the  knoll ;  so  that  when  it  had  attained  its  utmost  depth,  an  irregular  and  narrow- 
cart-track  had  been  cut  through  the  slope  into  the  nearest  hollow ;  this  track,  however 
having  been  long  disused  and  hah0  choked  by  the  earth  and  stones  which  had  rolled 
from  above,  and  overrun  completely  with  every  species  of  tangled  underwood  was 
quite  forgotten,  and  would  doubtless  have  been  quite  obliterated  too,  but  that  a  little 
thread  of  running  water,  the  offspring  of  a  tiny  well-head  which  had  been  opened  as  the 
stony  strata  were  cut  through,  found  its  way  down  the  narrow  gorge  to  join  tho  neigh. 


64  MARMADTTKE 

boring  rivulet.  So  insignificant,  indeed,  was  the  whole  surface  occupied,  and  so  com. 
pletely  was  it  sheltered,  that  there  were  not  perhaps  five  people  in  the  country  who 
knew  of  its  existence,  although  it  lay,  as  has  been  stated,  within  ten  paces  of  a  regular 
footpath — some  two  or  three  of  the  old  servants,  had  they  been  questioned,  would 
probably  have  recollected  that  they  had  seen  or  heard  of  it,  and  the  game-keeper  knew 
the  gully  well,  for  it  was  a  favorite  haunt  of  woodcock  when  all  the  marshy  woods 
were  frozen  hard,  though  it  is  scarcely  probable  that  he  had  ever  followed  the  streamlet 
upward  to  its  source.  No  fitter  den  could,  therefore,  have  been  chosen  by  any  person, 
whose  object  it  might  be  to  join  seclusion  with  the  ability  of  keeping  watch  over  the 
dwellers  of  the  Hall ;  since  its  steep  banks  concealed  it  from  all  observation,  and  shel- 
tered it  from  every  wind  of  heaven ;  while  its  pure  spring  afforded  an  unfailing  antidote 
to  thirst,  and  heavy  must  have  been  the  storm,  which  should  beat  down  upon  its  in- 
mates between  the  tangled  branches  of  the  thicket  overhead. 

In  this  sequestered  nook,  around  a  fire  which  evidently  was  but  just  kindled,  of  dried 
leaves  and  such  broken  branches  as  would  give  forth  but  little  smoke,  three  men  were 
seated,  silently  superintending  the  preparation  of  their  evening  meal — for  which  there 
lay  ample  provision  on  the  dry  mossy  greensward,  in  the  shape  of  a  hare  already 
stripped  of  his  furry  coat  and  trussed  for  cooking,  and  a  brace  of  superb  cock-pheas- 
ants— when  they  were  interrupted  by  the  crackling  sound  of  a  dry  branch,  several  of 
which  they  had  disposed,  for  that  very  purpose,  across  the  path ;  so  that  it  would  have 
been  no  easy  matter  for  any  one  to  have  avoided  treading  on  them,  even  had  he  been 
desirous  of  so  doing.  As  no  such  thought  had  entered  Marian's  mind,  she  trod  on  one 
or  two  quite  unsuspiciously,  and  the  sharp  crackle  with  which  they  yielded  to  her  light 
springy  tread,  reached  ears,  as  we  have  seen,  keenly  awake  to  every  passing  token. 
One  of  the  party  rose  immediately,  making  a  sign  of  caution  to  the  others,  and  scaling 
the  bank  easily  by  the  aid  of  steps  cut  into  its  hard  strata,  and  stakes  set  firmly  in  the 
looser  portions,  brought  his  eye  just  above  the  surface  ;  and  speedily  discovering  who 
was  the  passer-by,  and  seeing  that  she  walked  straight  on,  quite  fearlessly,  descended 
again  to  his  comrades,  and  resumed  his  seat,  saying  in  answer  to  their  inquiring  glances — 

"  Nay ;  it  was  but  the  young  wench  of  the  inn,  who  passed  an  hour  ago,  or  better, 
when  I  was  on  the  watch." 

"  It  was  but  right,"  answered  one  of  the  others,  with  an  appalling  oath ;  "  to  strip  off 
her  duds  if  she  has  nothing  more  about  her,  and  give  her  a  walk  home  in  cuerpo,  as 
the  Spaniard  has  it,  this  fine  fresh  afternoon." 

"  No,  no ;  that  would  not  do  at  all ;"  returned  the  first  speaker,  a  sullen,  dogged 
puritanical-looking  youth,  dressed  in  a  strong  new  doublet  of  buff  leather,  such  as  was 
worn  by  the  Ironsides  when  off  duty,  and  a  slouched  gray  felt  hat;  " I  do  profese,  that 
you  would  ruin  the  best  scheme  that  ever  wit  hatched  by  your  rash  rakehelly  marauding. 
I  almost  do  regret  I  have  consorted  with  you ;  I  do,  as  my  soul  hopes  to  see  salvation." 

"  As  your  soul  hopes  to  see  hell-fire  !,"  replied  the  other  man,  a  tall,  rawboned  and 
tawdrily-dressed  soldier,  with  huge  mustaches  and  a  peaked  beard  upon  his  chin ;  the 
very  caricature  in  fact,  of  a  debauched  and  roistering  cavalier,  as  was  the  other  of  a 
fanatical  independent — "  to  see  hell  fire,  you  should  say  rather — for  as  the  courses  you 
run  here  lead  not  that  way,  the  road  is  very  different,  I  trow,  from  what  the  preachers 
tell  us.  But  if  you  are  so  sorry  you  have  joined  with  us,  what  keeps  you  here  with  us  ? 
Too  much  of  honor  is  it  for  a  d — d  scurry  roundhead  to  be  admitted  to  go  shares  with 
gentlemen  who  have  fought  for  the  king.  Why  do  you  consort  with  us,  Master  Des- 
pard  ?  I  trow  we  never  sought  your  company." 

"  Because  he  cannot  help  it ;"  said  the  third  man,  who  had  not  spoken  before — 
"  because  he  cannot  help  it,  Beverly.  Why  do  you  ask  such  sUly  questions — seeing 
you  know  as  well  as  he  does,  that  since  he  was  broken  and  dismissed  the  Ironsides,  he 
has  no  help  for  it,  but  to  take  toll  as  we  do  ?" 

"  Then  I  should  rather  ask,"  retorted  Beverly,  "  why  we,  two  cavaliers  of  honor, 
allow  this  canting  palm-singer  to  hang  upon  our  skirts,  and  carry  it  so  high  as  if  he 
were  our  leader  ?" 


OH,     THE     MAID'S     REVENGE.  67 

jects  were  but  indistinctly  visible  at  a  few  paces  distance — they  had  not  only  prepared, 
but  discussed  their  supper,  flung  a  few  handfuls  of  sand  upon  the  embers,  and  gath- 
ering up  their  weapons,  gone  off  in  different  directions  into  the  growing  darkness. 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

MEANTIME,  all  unsuspicious  of  any  plots  against  her,  Alice  awaited  the  return  of  her 
humble  friend ;  and  scarcely  was  it  dark  before,  according  to  their  preconcerted  scheme, 
Marian  came  up  quite  breathless  from  the  lodge,  and  sent  a  message  in  praying  that 
Mistress  Alice  would  of  her  kindness  walk  down  to  the  Stag's  Head,  since  Martin  had 
been  taken,  as  they  feared,  death  sick.  Old  Mark  looked  up  from  his  book  quickly,  as 
the  word  was  delivered ;  for  she  was  sitting  with  him  at  the  time,  engaged  about  some 
graceful  feminine  handiwork,  and  began  saying  something  about  the  lateness  of  the 
hour,  and  the  darkness ;  but  he  perceived,  as  he  looked  up,  a  meaning  in  his  daughter's 
eye,  which  checked  him  as  he  did  so,  and  he  made  no  further  opposition,  when  she 
said  calmly — 

"  Oh !  father,  I  must  go — I  shall  not  be  away  above  an  hour  or  so  at  the  utmost — I 
will  take  Launcelot  and  Charles,  with  weapons  and  a  lantern,  so  there  cannot  be  any 
danger." 

"  As  you  will,  Alice,"  the  old  man  replied,  "  but  I  must  say  I  think  it  foolish,  seeing 
that  to  go  in  the  morning  would  probably  do  every  whit  as  well.  The  men,  however, 
must  carry  fire-arms,  if  you  will  go — see  to  it,  Peter,"  he  continued — "  see  that  they 
carry  pistolets  besides  their  broadswords ;"  then,  as  the  servant  left  the  room  to  execute 
his  bidding — "  what  is  there  in  the  wind  now,  Alice  ?"  he  said  anxiously,  "  for  I  am 
certain  there  is  something — I  can  read  that  in  your  eye,  and  heightened  color!" 

"  Oh !  read  your  ^Eschylus,  dear  father,"  said  she  smiling,  as  if  to  reassure  him, 
"  instead  of  wasting  your  acumen  upon  my  silly  cheek.  You  shall  know  all  when  I 
return,  and  all  good  news,  I  fancy."  And  she  stooped  over  him,  as  she  spoke,  and 
parted  the  long  snowy  hair  from  his  broad  brow,  and  kissed  him  tenderly  before  she 
left  the  room. 

Nothing  occurred  of  any  moment  on  their  way,  except  that  Marian  told  her  how 
Martin  had  in  truth  come  home  from  wandering  in  the  park,  far  more  distempered  than 
he  had  been  since  the  outrage  ;  that  he  had  raved  so  furiously  about  the  soldier,  that 
he  had  terrified  them  all,  and  had  then  fallen  into  the  worst  fit  she  had  ever  witnessed. 
Bartram  had  not  arrived  when  she  left  home,  but  she  fea  ed  not  he  would  be  there 
before  them.  And  so,  indeed,  he  was.  For,  when  they  reached  the  Stag's  Head,  after 
desiring  the  two  men  to  make  themselves  comfortable  by  the  kitchen  hearth,  over  a  pot 
of  spiced  ale  which  stood  simmering  in  the  chimney  corner,  all  mantled  over  with  a 
rich  creamy  froth ;  and  sending  off  the  girls  on  the  pretext  of  putting  the  blind  woman 
quietly  to  bed,  Marian  lit  a  hand-lamp,  and  led  the  fair  young  lady  by  the  same  winding 
staircase,  into  the  same  neat  chamber  wherein  Chaloner  had  breakfasted  on  the  eventful 
morning  which  sealed  his  earthly  fate.  Here  she  set  down  the  light  upon  the  table, 
and  opening  a  small  door  into  an  inner  chamber,  looking  to  the  back  of  the  house,  and 
quite  overshadowed  by  the  tall  elm-trees  of  the  park  which  grew  within  ten  or  twelve 
feet  of  the  latticed  window — "  Bartram,"  she  said  in  a  low  whisper,  "  are  you  there, 
Master  Bartram?" 

"  Ay !"  was  the  answer  in  a  yet  lower  tone — "  Ay !  but  be  very  cautious,  I  fear 
we  may  be  watched.  Is  Mistress  Alice  with  you  ?  I  need  not  ask  though,  I  hear  her 
gentle  tread — come  in  then,  come  in  both  of  you,  now  quickly — leave  the  light  there, 
oh !  leave  the  light,  it  would  betray  us  outright — and  hark  you,  Marian,  reach  me  that 
old  steel  cross-bow,  and  the  bolts  that  hang  above  the  chimney — it  is  as  well  to  be  pre- 
pared for  the  worst  always." 

Alice  immediately  entered,  and  went  up  to  the  peddler,  whose  sturdy  and  athletic 


68  MARMADTTKEWYVIL; 

form  she  could  discover  indistinctly  near  the  window,  saying  in  a  sweet  guarded  tone, 
"  Well,  Master  Bartram,  I  have  come  to  hear  what  you  can  have  to  say  to  me — some. 
thing  of  greater  moment  than  the  last  modes,  or  the  price  of  French  taffeta,  I  hope — " 
"  Yes,  indeed  !  yes,  indeed,  lady,"  he  replied  ;  "  but,  I  beseech  you  come  and  sit  here 
by  me,  that  I  may  speak  quite  low  to  you.  I  do  not  like  the  shadow  of  those  trees ;  a 
man  might  lie  upon  the  coping  of  the  wall,  within  six  feet  of  us,  and  we  no  thought 
the  wiser !" 

"  Then  why  not  shut  the  casement  ?  or,  better  yet,  go  to  the  other  chamber?"  said 
Alice  ;  doing,  however,  quietly  as  he  directed  her. 

"  Because,"  said  Bartram,  still  gazing  out  into  the  darkness  ;  "  this  is  the  only  safe 
room  in  the  house  ;  in  all  the  rest  the  servants  would  overhear  us,  and  as  for  the  case- 
ment, four  of  the  panes  are  broken,  the  worse  luck  on  it ;  it  slipped  from  my  hand  as  I 
entered,  and  fell  back  against  the  tenter-hook  in  the  house-side.  So  if  I  were  to  shut 
it,  it  would  but  hinder  us  from  seeing  what's  afoot  without  doors,  while  it  would  be  no 
safeguard  in  the  least  to  us  within.  Ay  !  that's  it,  Marian,"  he  continued,  as  he  reached 
the  cross-bow  from  her  hand,  and  instantly  applied  himself  to  bend  it,  and  fit  the  quarrel, 
or  steel-headed  bolt,  to  the  stiff  cat-gut  string.  "  Now  keep  your  watch  there  in  the 
parlor,  but  do  not  shut  the  door,  lest  Mistress  Alice  be  afraid,  nor  move  the  lamp  at 
all — it  is  well  placed  now,  since  it  casts  no  glimmer  hitherward.  Now  lady,  listen ; 
listen  with  all  your  ears,  that  you  may  perfectly  remember:  and  that,  if  possible, 
without  obliging  me  to  answer  any  question.  We  have  but  little  time  to  talk  ;  and  if 
I  be  not  more  mistaken  than  I  am  very  often,  I  saw  the  shadow  of  a  man  dogging 
me  in  the  park ;  and  if'  it  were  so,  he  was  not  half  so  far  as  he  should  have  been 
when  I  climbed  in  here  at  this  window." 

"  Do  not  fear,"  answered  Alice,  "  that  I  shall  clearly  comprehend,  and  perfectly 
remember  what  you  tell  me  ;  go  on  at  once,  I  pray  you,  for  the  sooner  I  reach  home, 
the  safer  it  will  be  for  all  of  us." 

"  Well  then,"  he  said,  still  speaking  very  low,  and  pausing  every  now  and  then  to 
listen  for  a  moment,  and  keeping  his  eyes  fixed  upon  the  summit  of  the  park  wall, 
which  was  nearly  on  the  level  of  the  window — "  well,  then,  all  is  prepared  for  the  young 
cavalier's  escape — a  sharp  .fast-sailing  lugger  is  lying  off  the  Welsh  coast;  relays  of 
horses  are  already  posted  in  spots  where  none  will  think  of  looking  for  them  :  I  will 
accompany  him  to  the  sea-shore  myself,  and  see  him  safe  aboard.  Ha  !  what  was  that  ? 
did  you  not  hear  a  sound  ?" 

"  It  was  a  bird,"  Alice  replied — "  only  the  cry  of  a  little  bird,  and  hark!  that  is  the 
flutter  of  his  wings  as  he  takes  flight ;  go  on  good  Bartram  !" 

But  he  did  not  go  on,  but  sat  there  with  his  head  bent  forward,  his  rapid  roving  eye 
glancing  continually  over  every  object,  and  his  ear  drinking  every  sound,  however  small 
or  trivial.  But  there  arose  no  further  noise,  although  he  listened  for  ten  minutes  at  the 
least,  moving  not  nor  speaking  ;  then  with  a  doubtful  and  dissatisfied  shake  of  the  head, 
"  It  was  indeed  a  bird,"  he  said — "  a  missel  thrush,  awakened  from  its  roost  by  sudden 
fear  ;  that  much  is  clear  enough  to  all  who  know  the  habits  of  the  bird — but  what  should 
have  compelled  him  to  take  wing  so  wildly,  it  would  require  a  wiser  head  than  mine  to 
fathom." 

"  How  can  you  think  so  deeply  on  such  a  trifle  ?"  said  Alice,  wondering  greatly  at 
the  peddler's  manner  ;  "  What  can  it  signify  what  roused  him  ?  a  fox  perhaps,  passing 
among  the  shrubs  below,  or  a  night-owl,  it  might  be,  or  perhaps  a  snake." 

"  As  for  trifles,  lady,"  the  peddler  replied  very  gravely  ;  "  I  trust  in  heaven  that  you 
may  never  learn  as  I  have,  to  take  the  closest  note  of  all  such  seeming  trifles — taught 
so  to  do  by  the  hard  bitter  teacher  of  the  best  earthly  wisdom — painful  and  sad  expe- 
rience. I  have  been  hunted  day  and  night,  by  savage  bloodhounds  and  men  more  savage 
yet,  and  have  'scaped  only  by  my  knowledge  of  such  trifles.  Lady,  God  has  not  given 
one  small  instinct  to  one  of  the  smallest  of  his  creatures,  but  has  its  clear  and  proper 
meaning — but  speaks  to  him  who  comprehends,  with  voice  as  plain  and  audible,  and  far 
more  true  than  any  human  accents.  There  is  not  a  bark  or  whine  of  the  hill-fox,  not 


OR,     THE     MAZDAS     REVENGE.  65 

"  That  can  I  tell  you,"  said  Despard,  for  it  was  no  other  than  the  tyrannical  and 
brutal  cornet,  who  had  been  cashiered  and  disgraced  at  Henry  Chaloner's  instance — 
"  that  can  I  tell  you  very  shortly.  Because  five  words  of  mine,  just  five  !  of  mine 
would  send  you  to  the  gallows  at  Low  Barnsley  Moor ;  first,  as  proclaimed  malignants 
— second,  as  common  pads  and  michers — and  third,  as  the  assaulters  of  sweet  Mistress 
Alice  Selby ;  five  words  of  mine  would  do  this  piece  of  very  notable  justice.  I  do  not 
know,  'fore  heaven,  why  I  dont  speak  them/' 

"  Then  will  I  make  sure  that  you  don't,"  replied  the  taller  ruffan,  starting  to  his  feet,  and 
laying  his  hand  where  the  hilt  of  his  sword  should  have  been,  but  where  there  only 
swung  an  empty  scabbard.  Despard,  however,  did  not  quit  his  seat,  nor  indeed  moved 
at  all,  though  his  dark,  jealous  eye  watched  every  movement  of  his  man  with  eager  scru- 
tiny; but  when  he  saw  him  clutch  the  useless  scabbard,  he  uttered  a  low  sneering  laugh. 

"  Pity,"  he  said — "  'tis  pity  thou  didst  throw  away  a  weapon  thou  seemest  so  prompt 
to  handle,  and  all  in  empty  terror  for  an  unloaded  pistol,  when,  had  you  but  pos. 
sessed  half  a  man's  courage,  you  might  have  pinked  that  straight-laced  idiot  Chaloner, 
and  clodded  the  knave  farmer  into  the  deepest  hole  of  the  river,  and  turned  the  girl  to 
your  own  uses  afterwards.  Tush  man,  you  cavaliers  and  kingsmen,  for  all  your  brag- 
gart ruffling,  are  fit  but  to  rob  hen-roosts,  and  frighten  country  cullions.  Tush !  I  say, 
tush !  Hugh  Beverly — we  are  not  here  to  wrangle  or  to  fight,  but  to  be  well  revenged 
upon  our  enemies,  and  to  amend  our  fortunes,  as  thou  knowest !" 

"  Curse  Chaloner,  and  you  too !"  answered  the  other  gruffly,  resuming  his  seat,  how. 
ever,  as  he  spoke  ;  "for  hadAe  not  thrust  himself  into  that  which  concerned  him  nothing, 
we  had  won  gold  enough  to  carry  us  to  merry  France  long  since — and  then  must  you 
come  in  with  your  confounded  schemes  and  plots.  Hung  !  by  the  Lord  !  if  we  were 
hung  at  all  it  should  be  for  what  we  are  planning  now — to  yield  up  an  old  kingsman, 
and  a  comrade  too,  to  the  filthy  roundhead  butchers.  But  if  we  do  'scape  hanging  for't 
we  shall  not  'scape  the  stings  of  our  conscience.  For  my  patt  I  do  not  like  it  half!" 

"But  recollect,"  put  in  the  other  cavalier — " recollect,  Beverly,  how  he  set  you  in  the 
bilboes  and  swore  that  you  should  taste  of  the  strapado." 

"And  if  he  did — if  he  did,  Paul,  I  cannot  say  but  I  deserved  it,"  the  tall  man  inter- 
rupted him — "  but  plague  upon  the  bilboes  !  If  Captain  Wyvil  could  see  us  as  we  are, 
he  would  right  freely  share  his  last  crown  with  us — and  not  to  save  his  own  life  ten. 
times  over  would  he  betray  our  hiding-place  or  yield  us  to  the  hangman." 

"  Well,  Beverly,"  returned  the  other,  "  if  you  think  thus  of  it,  you  were  best  bridge, 
and  seek  your  fortune  elsewhere  ;  Master  Despard  and  I  will  do  the  job  without  you. 
But  as  it  must  be  done,  whether  you  will  or  no,  it  seems  to  me  you  were  best  share 
the  deed,  and  go  thirds  in  the  guerdon — think,  man,  a  hundred  crowns  to  each  of  us,  and 
a  free  pardon !" 

"  Damn  the  crowns !"  Beverly  replied — "  I  would  not  do  it  for  ten  thousand,  if  I  could 
only  get  myself  quietly  away  to  France." 

"  But  that  thou  canst  not  do,  friend,"  said  Despard,  who  thought  it  full  time  to  strike 
in  now  that  his  comrade's  virtue  was  yielding  fast  to  the  temptation — "but  that  thou 
canst  not  do — were  it  to  save  thy  soul  from  sure  perdition.  Here  thou  art,  many  miles 
from  sea,  with  all  the  roads  patrolled  on  every  side,  and  not  a  tester  in  your  pouch  ! 
Thou  hast  no  choice  but  to  join  with  us,  or  to  perish.  Besides,  it  may  not  go  so  hard 
with  this  malignant  Wyvil  after  all.  For  of  a  verity  I  owe  him  no  grudge — and,  for  me, 
he  might  go  safe  where'er  he  listed  were  it  not  for  the  price  upon  his  head,  and  for  the 
certainty  of  proving  Chaloner  guilty  of  treacherous  connivance,  and  bringing  down  his 
cool,  proud  insolence  of  bearing  to  infamy  and  ruin — for  all  he  lords  it  now  so  fairly ! 
Come,  pluck  up  heart  man— thou  must  needs  on  with  us." 

"  I  fear  you  say  true,  and  I  must,"  Beverly  answered ;  "  but  I  would  not,  by  all  the 
fiends  in  hell !  I  would  not,  could  I  at  all  do  otherwise !  Pass  me  the  bottle,  Paul,  pass 
me  the  bottle :"  and  grasping,  with  the  words,  a  huge  black  leathern  flagon  half  filled 
with  spirits,  he  gulped  down  his  qualms  of  conscience  in  a  deep  draught  of  the  liquid 
fire ;  and  dropping  it  again  folded  his  arms  upon  his  breast,  and  frowning,  fixed  his  eyes 


66  MARMADTTKEWYVIL; 

doggedly  on  the  ground,  as  one  resolved  to  act  against  the  dictates  of  his  better  reason. 
For  a  minute  or  two  no  further  words  were  interchanged,  but  Despard  screwed  his  fea- 
tures into  a  hideously  acute  grimace,  and  winked  at  the  ruffian  who  had  been  called 
Paul,  pointing  as  he  did  so  with  his  thumb  over  his  shoulder  to  the  lesser  villain,  Beverly  ; 
and  then  a  grim  smile  kindled  both  their  visages,  as  they  exulted  over  the  last  vanquished 
glimpse  of  their  companion's  nobler  nature.  After  a  little  pause,  however,  Paul  addressed 
the  Puritan  in  a  subdued  voice,  not  necessarily  to  attract  attention  from  the  other. 

"  But  are  you  sure,"  he  said — "  are  you  so  very  sure  after  all,  that  Wyvil  is  concealed 
up  here  at  the  manor  ?  I  cannot  see,  for  my  part,  how  he  can  well  be  there,  after  such 
thorough  searching — nor  if  he  be,  how  you  can  know  it." 

"  I  tell  you,  man,  he  must  be  here — did  we  not  chase  him  down  to  the  very  bridge  in 
full  sight  of  our  party,  and  when  we  turned  the  corner,  lo  !  he  was  vanished  away — and 
was  not  his  horse  found  close  beside  the  river,  where  he  had  tied  him  in  the  woodland — 
and  did  not  our  first  squadron  see  this  girl  at  the  fish-house,  who  had  departed  thence, 
when  we  came  thither — and  is  not  this  good  proof?" 

"  It  may  be  good  suspicion,  but  hardly  proof,  I  think.  It  were  the  devil's  own  hash, 
to  be  foiled  in  this  matter,  after  we  have  been  loitering  hereabout  so  long." 

"  I  tell  you,  we  will  not  be  foiled — keep  thou  but  sharp  watch.  For  while  I  lay 
watching  the  forester  under  the  old  park  wall,  I  heard  that  peddler  knave,  that  Bartram — 
I  never  miss  a  voice  I  have  heard  once  before  !  chatting  with  the  quean,  Marian,  of 
the  inn.  I  could  not  catch  all  that  they  said  ;  but  I  am  sure  I  heard  the  peddler  send 
her  to  fix  some  time  and  place  where  he  might  speak  with  Mistress  Alice — doubtless 
to  scheme  this  Marmaduke's  escape  ;  and  I  doubt  not  it  was  to  that  end  she  visited  the 
Hall.  As  soon  as  it  grows  dark,  we  will  part  company — you,  Paul,  shall  watch  the 
lane  and  the  park  gates ;  Beverly  here  shall  hang  about  the  fish-house  ;  while  I  will 
take  my  old  post  by  the  wall." 

"  But  are  you  certain,"  Paul  again  inquired,  "  that  when  we  have  found  out  the  time, 
we  shall  be  able  to  entrap  him — are  you  assured  you  have  discovered  all  the  outlets  of 
that  same  hiding-place  of  which  the  soldiers  told  you  ?" 

"I  tell  you,  yes;  fool,  yes!"  returned  the  other;  "there  be  but  two,  and  I  have 
found  them  both,  one  in  a  drain  that  opens  out  beneath  the  park  wall  eastward  of  the 
gates,  into  the  old  green  lane — the  other  has  its  mouth  in  the  stream's  bank,  not  bigger 
much  than  a  foxearth — I  had  not  found  it,  had  I  not  well  known  from  the  troopers  the 
true  direction  of  each  passage." 

"  But  after  all  is  done,"  said  Beverly,  who  had  been  listening  all  the  time,  although 
they  knew  it  not,  "  we  shall  be  in  the  dark  as  much  as  ever.  We  cannot  possibly  learn 
by  which  of  the  two  gates  they  mean  to  let  him  out,  and  we  are  not  sufficiently  strong- 
handed  to  beset  both." 

"  Oh,  for  that  I  have  taken  thought,"  said  Despard  ;  "  we  will  force  them  to  take 
which  we  choose.  That  in  the  river  bank  will  be  the  easier  of  the  two  whereat  to 
seize  him.  And  I  will  so  arrange  it,  that  there  shall  be  a  troop  of  horse  posted  before 
the  entrance  of  the  drain  that  night.  I  have  some  old  friends  yet  among  the  soldiers, 
and  it  is  but  the  sending  a  false  letter." 

"  Ay !  that  will  do — that  will  do  bravely !  and  we  can  seize  him  meanwhile,  and 
carry  him  at  once  to  head-quarters,"  cried  Paul  exultingly,  rubbing  his  hands  as  he 
spoke.  "  But  come/'  he  added  in  a  moment  afterwards — "  come,  let  us  roast  the  hare, 
and  get  our  supper ;  the  fire  has  burned  bright,  and  it  will  cook  him  quickly.  We 
must  put  out  the  embers  too  before  the  keeper  takes  his  round,  and  it  is  getting  dark 
already.  It  was  a  wonder  the  wench  saw  not  the  smoke  as  she  passed  by.  Art  sure 
she  did  not,  Despard?" 

"  Trust  me  for  that ;  she  never  lifted  once  her  eyelids  from  the  ground,"  the  Puritan 
replied,  "  else  had  I  twisted  her  head  round,  before  she  could  have  called  for  succor, 
had  there  been  any  near." 

And  then,  without  more  words,  they  all  three  set  to  work  in  earnest  about  the  cookery 
of  the  game ;  and  in  less  than  half  an  hour — just  as  the  night  was  closing  in,  and  ob. 


OR,     THE     MAID'S    REVENGE.  69 

a  yell  of  the  wild-cat,  a  shriek  of  the  night-wandering  owl,  not  a  note  of  the  meanest 
warbler,  nay !  not  a  croak  of  the  garrulous  frog,  bitf  I  have  learned  to  mark  them,  and 
draw  deep  warnings  from  them  each  and  all !  But  it  was  none  of  those  things  which 
you  named  that  startled  that  poor  throstle.  A  fox  would  not  have  roused  the  bird  at 
all,  for  it  roosts  high,  and  knows  as  well  as  we  do  that  foxes  climb  no  trees — night-owls 
prey  ever  in  the  open  meadows,  and  strike  their  victims  on  the  ground,  never  among  thick 
woods  or  even  in  high  bushes — then  as  for  snakes,  the  cold  nights  this  week  past  have 
driven  the  snakes  all  into  their  snug  holes  under  ground  for  winter-quarters.  No,  if 
that  thrush  did  not  wake  up  scared  by  a  dream — for  birds  dream  also  !  Mistress  Alice, 
although  I  don't  suppose  you  will  believe  me — it  was  a  man  that  forced  it  to  take  wing, 
and  yet  I  heard  no  footstep  nor  any  rustling  of  the  branches." 

"  It  was  a  dream,  then,  I  dare  say,"  said  Alice,  not  a  little  surprised  and  rather  rest- 
less  at  his  long  discussion  ;  "  for  surely  had  there  been  a  man,  we  must  have  heard 
him  :  go  on,  I  pray  you,  with  our  more  urgent  business." 

"  Well,  as  I  said  then,  all  is  ready,  and  I  have  picked  a  stout  and  bold  companion  to 
see  us  clear  at  starting.  Now,  lady,  mark  me  well :  the  third  night  hence  there  will  be 
no  moon,  none  at  all ;  and  as  I  think,  the  weather  will  be  cloudy.  We  shall  need  all 
the  hours  of  darkness,  for  if  the  day  dawn  on  our  road  we  are  but  lost  men  all.  At 
eight  o'clock  then,  to  the  moment,  we  must  start.  Now  tell  me  clearly,  you,  where  are 
the  mouths  of  the  two  outward  passages.  This  you  must  speak  out  fearlessly,  for  we 
must  know  it,  or  we  shall  never  meet ;  but  wander,  it  may  be,  all  the  night  long  in  the 
park  at  cross  purposes." 

"  One  opens  in  the  lane,  sixty-four  paces  due  east  from  the  lodge — a  large  arched  drain 
comes  out  through  the  park  wall,  just  opposite  a  tall  old  ash  tree.  You  cannot  miss  the 
spot.  The  other — my  father  told  me  this,  that  I  might  tell  it  to  a  trusty  friend  in  case  of 
urgent  need — communicates  with  a  low  natural  cave,  not  much  larger  than  a  foxearth 
or  rabbit  burrow  ;  the  mouth  is  in  the  steep  red  gravelly  bank  of  the  rivulet,  an  arrow- 
shot  above  the  first  of  the  three  bridges  ;  it  is  within  a  foot  or  less  of  the  water's  brink, 
and  in  high  floods  is  sometimes  quite  submerged  ;  there  is  a  clump  of  very  thick  dark 
hollies  on  the  bank's  edge,  and  one  of  the  same  trees,  a  variegated  one,  about  midway 
the  steep  declivity  exactly  over  it — " 

"  Hush  !"  whispered  the  peddler  ;  "  hush !"  laying  his  hard  hand  on  her  arm  in  the 
excitement  of  the  moment ;  "  heard  you  not  that  ?"  as  a  slight  grating  sound,  like  that 
which  a  person  might  make  creeping  along  the  top  of  a  rough-hewn  stone  wall,  became 
quite  audible  ;  and,  as  he  spoke,  he  rose  carefully  to  his  feet,  holding  the  cross-bow 
ready  in  his  hand  for  instant  service.  The  very  next  moment,  the  noise  was  repeated ; 
and  was  followed  closely  by  a  loud  rustling  of  the  branches  of  the  elm,  which  could  be 
indistinctly  seen  to  shake  against  the  dull  horizon,  though  there  was  not  a  breath  of 
air  abroad  to  stir  them.  As  quick  as  thought  the  cross-bow  rose  to  Bartram's  shoulder, 
a  hoarse  clang  broke  the  silence,  and  then  the  whirring  of  the  heavy  missile  !  the 
boughs  were  more  violently  agitated  yet,  as  if  some  heavy  body  was  breaking  its  way 
through  them,  and  in  a  moment  the  marked  and  peculiar  sound  of  a  soft  heavy  mass 
falling  upon  the  ground  succeeded,  with  something  that  resembled  a  faint  groan. 

"  Good  God  !"  cried  Alice,  clasping  her  hands  in  all  the  agony  of  mortal  terror — 
"  Good  God  !  you  have  killed  some  one — oh !  how  could  you  be  so  rash,  so  unthinking !" 

"  I  hope  I  have,'1  Bartram  replied,  speaking  in  a  louder  voice  than  he  had  ventured 
to  adopt  before,  and  not  without  some  real  dignity — "  I  hope  I  have  slain  some  one — 
for  that  one  must  have  been  either  a  night-robber  or  a  spy,  and  which  he  was  soever, 
death  is  his  fitting  meed.  But  I  believe  I  have  not ;  for  I  shot  quite  at  random,  and 
I  fancy  the  bolt  broke  his  arm ;  at  least  he  was  alive  as  he  dropped  through  the 
branches,  and  seemed  to  catch  at  them  as  if  to  break  his  fall." 

"  He  may  be  wounded,  then,"  Alice  exclaimed.  "  Oh,  heavens !  wounded,  and 
bleeding  his  life-blood  away  upon  the  cold  damp  ground,  without  a  helping  hand  to 
soothe  his  tortures.  Let  me  call  Charles  and  Launcelot,  to  go  and  search  for  him  with 
torches !"  and,  as  she  spoke,  she  darted  toward  the  door ;  but  Bartram  caught  her  firmlf 
but  respectfully,  and  held  her  fast  by  the  arm* 


70  MA  R  M  A  D  TJ  K  E     WYVIL; 

"  Unhand  me,  sir ;"  she  said,  with  not  a  little  indignation  in  her  tones,  though  they 
were  still  instinctively  suppressed — "unhand  me,  for  I  will  go  forth!" 

"Not  for  your  life!  dear  lady — for  all  our  lives — I  say!"  responded  Bartram ; 
"  Yours — Wyvil's — mine — but  that  is  little  worth,  and  ready  at  a  moment's  call !  and 
your  good  father's  !"  and  seeing  that  she  was  struck  by  his  words,  he  released  her  and 
continued.  "  Now  hear  me,  Mistress  Alice,  but  twenty  words  more,  and  then  return 
straightway  to  the  Hall,  taking  your  servants  with  you — as  soon  as  you  shall  have 
departed,  I  will  go  look  for  the  man  I  shot  at — I  will,  by  all  that  I  hold  sacred  !  Now 
this  is  all  that  still  is  left  to  say.  I  understand  the  spots  you  have  described  distinctly. 
Of  these,  the  first  will  be  the  best,  if  it  be  possible  to  use  it ;  therefore  let  him  try  that 
the  first — but,  as  it  opens  on  the  road,  something  may  well  occur  to  make  it  perilous. 
Therefore  let  him  look  for  this  token — if  he  find  not  a  glove  within  the  drain,  at  some 
five  yards  from  the  arched  mouth,  directly  in  the  centre  of  the  dry  channel — for  it  is 
dry,  I  well  remember — let  him  go  back  at  once,  and  he  will  find  us  at  the  other.  He 
must  be  at  the  drain  mouth  shortly  after  seven,  that  he  may  have  full  time  to  get  back 
to  the  other  entrance  if  he  find  not  the  symbol.  But,  for  no  cause  whatever,  let  him  go 
forth  until  he  hear  me  whistle  thrice — he  knows  my  call  I  trow  !  Now,  do  you  under- 
stand distinctly  ?  Let  him  be  at  the  drain  by  seven,  and  if  he  find  the  glove,  lie  perdu 
there,  until  he  hear  the  signal ;  if  not,  back  with  the  speed  of  light  to  the  cave  by  the 
river." 

"  Yes,  yes ;  I  understand  distinctly,"  she  replied — "  but — " 

"  Oh,  no  buts ;  no  buts,  dear  lady,"  cried  the  peddler ;  "  we  have  no  time  for 
buts !  You  have  the  whole  plan  now  before  you,  and  if  you  manage  rightly,  then  his 
escape  is  certain — if  not,  then  on  their  heads  be  the  blame  who  mar  it  in  the  acting. 
Now,  Marian,  light  her  down  the  stairs — take  your  men  hastily,  I  do  beseech  you, 
Mistress  Alice,  and  get  you  homeward  with  all  speed — this  is  no  place  for  such  as  you, 
at  such  an  hour.  God's  blessing  on  your  head,  and  be  of  a  good  heart,  for  all  shall  yet 
go  well.  And  trust  me  I  will  go  forth  instantly,  and  see  what  has  befallen  yonder — 
though  I  am  well  assured  his  life  is  safe,  and  his  wounds,  if  he  indeed  be  wounded, 
quite  superficial.  It  is  as  well  so  too  ;  for  he  heard  nothing  of  our  conversation — 
nothing  at  least  that  could  do  good  or  evil." 

He  led  her  to  the  door  as  he  said  this,  and  while  Marian  conducted  her  down  to  the 
kitchen,  and  saw  her  set  forth  for  the  Hall  under  the  keeping  of  her  sturdy  yeomen,  he 
lifted  from  the  table  where  they  had  lain  during  his  interview  with  Alice,  two  brace  of 
large  long-barrelled  pistolets,  and  a  broad-bladed  wood-knife  ;  the  latter  of  which  he 
thrust  into  his  belt  at  first,  whereas  he  opened  the  pans  of  the  others,  and  felt  that  the 
powder  was  both  dry  and  loose,  and  the  flints  firm  fixed,  before  he  consigned  them  to 
the  girdle.  This  done,  he  mounted  on  the  window-sill,  caught  a  large  flexible  branch 
of  the  elm-tree  in  both  his  hands,  and  swung  himself — with  far  more  agility  than  could 
be  looked  for  in  a  man  of  his  years  and  thickset  frame — to  the  top  of  the  park  wall, 
alighting  on  it  firmly,  and  balancing  himself  a  moment  before  he  stooped  ;  and  grasping 
the  projecting  coping  with  a  strong  hold,  lowered  himself  to  arms'  length,  and  then 
dropped  safely  to  the  earth  within  the  park  of  Woolverton.  There  he  searched  diligently 
and  for  a  long  time,  if  he  might  discover  any  trace  of  the  man  he  had  shot  at;  but  there 
was  no  one  there,  alive  or  dead  ;  nor  was  there  any  sign'  that  anything  had  fallen  from 
above,  except  that  one  small  bush  was  beaten  to  the  earth,  and  some  of  its  thin  shoots 
battered  and  broken  as  if  by  some  heavy  body. 


CHAPTER    XV. 

IT  was  already  very  late,  wnen  Alice  entered  the  park  gates,  for  the  walk  and  her 
interview  with  Bartram  had  occupied  much  more  time  than  they  had  imagined,  and 
Supper  was  already  ended  ;  but  so  well  had  the  whole  scheme  been  arranged,  that  her 


OR,     THE     MAID'S     REVENGE.  71 

unusual  absence  excited  in  this  instance  neither  suspicion  nor  surprise,  Desiring  that 
some  light  refreshments  with  wine  and  water  should  be  carried  up  into  the  library,  she 
ran  up  thither  instantly,  thinking,  it  is  true,  very  little  about  such  matters,  and  eager 
only  to  disbosom  herself  to  her  father,  as  soon  as  possible,  of  her  important  tidings. 
This  was  soon  done  ;  and  so  much  pleasure  did  the  old  man  exhi&it  at  the  intelligence, 
that,  though  she  spoke  not  of  it,  his  very  evident  joy  seemed  selfish  and  unkind  to 
Alice ;  who,  though  she  knew  not  why,  felt  a  sad  sinking  at  the  heart,  a  melancholy 
and  foreboding  gloom  upon  her  spirits,  so  often  as  she  thought  of  Marmaduke's 
departure.  After  brief  conversation  on  the  subject,  for  neither  felt  inclined  to  talk  at 
length,  Alice,  fatigued  by  the  exertions  and  excitement  of  the  day,  retired  without  visit- 
ing her  captive  guest,  her  father  having  seen  him  in  his  crypt  during  her  absence. 

Long  she  lay  tossing,  sleepless  and  restless,  on  her  innocent  couch  ;  distracted  with 
strange  fancies ;  doubts,  and  suspicions,  and  perplexities  succeeding  one  the  other,  like 
billows  on  an  agitated  sea.  Now,  for  the  first  time  it  would  seem,  a  dim,  indefinite 
perception  of  the  state  of  her  affections  began  to  steal  across  her  mind.  At  first,  it  as- 
sumed  the  form  of  simple  anxiety — a  longing  fond  desire  to  know  if  he,  whom  she  had 
so  long  tended  with  so  affectionate  care,  would  feel  the  same  despondency  and  sorrow 
at  quitting  his  poor  place  of  refuge,  which  she  endured  already  at  the  mere  thought  of 
his  departure — then,  as  she  asked  herself — Why  should  he  ?  why  should  he  grieve  at 
being  rescued  from  a  dull  dreary  prison-house,  and  let  loose  again  to  active  life,  to 
liberty,  and  daylight  ?  nay,  rather,  why  should  he  not  rejoice,  with  an  extreme  triumph- 
ant exultation  ?  It  naturally  began  to  suggest  itself  to  her,  that  her  own  sorrow  and 
despondency  was  something  more  than  ordinary  ;  and,  though  she  strove  hard  to  con- 
vince herself  that  it  was  a  mere  natural  regard  for  one  with  whom  she  had  passed 
latterly  many  delightful  hours,  a  common  and  unselfish  interest  in  a  fine  noble-minded 
man,  who  was  no  more  to  her  than  any  other  late  acquaintance,  all  the  heart's  sophistry 
availed  her  nothing ;  but  she  was  forced  to  entertain  the  question — Did  she  then  love  ? 
Coulo*  it  be  possible,  that  all  unasked,  uncourted,  she  had  surrendered  her  soul's  deep 
affection  to  this  young  gallant  ?  whether  it  could  be  that  a  secret  instinct,  undreamed 
of  at  the  time,  and  unsuspected,  of  love  for  Wyvil,  had  led  her  to  meet  Chaloner's 
addresses  with  so  unqualified  and  final  a  rejection  ?  No  !  she  discarded  the  idea  by  a 
strong  impulse  of  alarmed  and  jealous  modesty !  It  would  have  been,  she  thought,  the 
height  of  overbold  unmaidenly  effrontery  to  love,  herself  unloved — it  was  impossible  ! 
it  was  not  so  !  And  then  she  closed  her  eyes,  and  breathed  a  short  pure  prayer,  and 
turning  on  her  other  side,  bade  such  vain  imaginations  avaunt !  and  resolved  positively, 
as  she  thought,  to  entertain  the  like  no  more.  But  such  thoughts  are  insidious  and  most 
subtle  guests ;  and  once  admitted  into  the  sanctuary  of  the  human  mind,  can  scarcely 
be  yielded  thence,  but  will  creep  forward — onward,  and  forward  still — till  they  have 
reached  the  very  shrine  and  altar  of  that  wondrous  temple,  disguised  perhaps  and  hidden 
under  some  specious  mask,  but  still  unchanged  and  vigorously  active  ;  and  at  the  last 
shake  off  their  counterfeited  semblance,  and  kindle  the  whole  place  with  the  full  blaze 
of  confessed  and  overmastering  passion.  And  so,  on  this  occasion,  was  it  with  Alice 
Selby  ;  one  question  still  suggesting  others,  so  that  she  scarcely  had  resolved  to  think 
no  more  of  such  things,  before  she  was  asking  herself — "  And  was  it  then  so  certain 
that  she  was  unloved — was  it  so  clear,  that  it  was  not  a  secret  instinct,  that  Marmaduke 
indeed  did  love  her,  which  had  called  forth  in  her  this  mutual  feeling  ?"  Then  she  began 
to  think  of  the  peculiar  tones  of  his  voice,  as  he  had  spoken  to  her — to  recall  to  mind 
the  deep  and  concentrated  glance  of  his  expressive  eye,  which  she  had  caught  so  often 
dwelling  on  her  features,  when  he  believed  it  all  unnoticed — to  reflect  how  his  whole 
demeanor  had  been  gradually  changed  toward  her,  from  commonplace  gay  gallantry, 
to  calm,  though  by  no  means  cold  observance.  She  called  to  mind  how  often  she  had 
seen  him  raise  his  head,  and  partly  open  his  lips  to  speak  after  long  intervals  of  thoughtful 
silence,  and  again  check  himself  by  a  sudden  effort,  and  relapse  into  meditation.  She 
fancied,  too,  that  he  had  become  more  deeply  thoughtful  than  was  common,  or  in  ac- 
cordance with  his  native  dispoeition-r-that  there  was  a  vein  of  melancholy  in  the  poetical 


72  MAfcMADtTKE 

half-rambling  strains  of  thought  into  which,  now  and  then,  his  conversation  would  de- 
generate ;  and  she  was  sure — the  more  sure,  the  more  she  thought  upon  it — that  he  had 
oftentimes  of  late  endeavored,  as  it  were,  to  probe  her  thoughts,  to  penetrate  her  inmost 
mind,  and  learn  her  real  character ;  her  style  of  principles,  her  temper,  and  such  other 
matters,  more  carefully  than  a  mere  passing  guest  would  have  been  likely  to  do  con- 
cerning  the  acquaintance  of  a  day.  Thus  her  imagination  still  advanced,  never  one 
moment  idle  or  at  fault,  till  it  had  overleaped  all  obstacles,  and  had  persuaded  her, 
before  she  sank  into  a  perturbed  slumber,  that  she  was  loved  by  Wyvil ;  and  almost 
led  her  to  confess  that  she  loved  him  in  turn. 

The  following  morning,  she  awoke  all  pale  and  worn-out,  as  it  seemed,  with  mental 
excitation ;  but  after  breakfast,  she  passed  an  hour  or  two  in  "  chewing  the  cud  of  sweet 
and  bitter  fancy"  in  the  delicious  flower-garden,  and  returned  thence  refreshed,  indeed, 
by  the  pure  autumn  air,  and  the  fresh  scent  of  the  rich  upturned  mould  ;  but  only  con- 
firmed, the  more  fully,  in  the  almost  intuitive  conviction  which  had  come  over  her  in  the 
course  of  the  past  night.  All  that  day  long,  however,  she  went  not  near  the  cell ;  ex- 
cusing herself  on  some  trivial  plea,  and  prevailing,  not  without  some  small  difficulty, 
on  her  father  to  relieve  her  of  the  charitable  duty.  It  seemed,  moreover,  as  if  anxiety 
and  care  were  now  to  be  the  lot  of  all  the  family  of  Selby ;  for,  on  his  return  from 
Wyvil's  hiding-place,  an  eye  considerably  less  acute  than  that  of  Alice,  could  have  dis- 
covered that  something  of  far  more  than  common  moment  had  disturbed  the  serenity 
of  old  Mark's  calm  and  steady  equanimity.  He  settled  himself  down,  indeed,  to  his 
books  as  usual ;  but  it  was  very  evident  that  his  mind  was  no  longer  in  the  task,  for  he 
would  look  up,  and  fix  his  eyes  steadfastly  on  the  vacant  air,  and  gaze  for  many  minutes, 
and  then  shake  his  thin  gray  locks  doubtfully,  and  heave  a  long-drawn  sigh  ;  and  then 
apply  himself  as  it  were  reluctantly  to  the  old  commentaries  once  again,  and  read  or 
write  earnestly  and  eagerly  for  a  few  minutes,  till  gradually  his  powers  of  abstraction 
would  prove  unequal  to  the  struggle  against  the  powerful  thoughts  within,  and  he  would 
raise  his  eyes  once  more  to  rest  them  upon  the  lovely  features  of  his  fair  pallid  child, 
and  seem  as  if  he  were  about  to  speak ;  but  finding  himself  unequal  to  the  task,  would 
clear  his  throat  with  a  deep  husky  cough,  and  brush  away  a  tear  from  his  gray  lashes. 
Thus  passed  the  day  gloomily — cheerlessly — although  the  sky  was  bright  and  clear  and 
sunny ;  and  the  air  balmy,  although  fresh  and  bracing.  Thus  passed  the  day,  with  no- 
thing worthy  of  note  to  mark  its  fleeting  hours,  except  that  the  head-forester,  who  had 
been  sent  out  with  all  his  men,  charged  to  search  all  the  brakes  and  dingles  of  the  park, 
but  more  especially  the  old  sand-quarry,  returned  at  nightfall,  and  reported  that  there 
certainly  were  no  strangers  now  within  the  precincts  of  the  park ;  although,  as  certainly, 
there  had  been  poachers  there  a  day  or  two  before  at  farthest ;  for  in  the  old  stone-pit 
he  had  found  the  white  embers  of  a  wood  fire,  the  skin  of  a  dead  hare,  the  feathers  of 
several  pheasants,  and,  last  but  not  least,  a  bunch  of  admirably  manufactured  gins  and 
springes,  proving  beyond  all  question  the  quality  and  occupation  of  its  late  visitors. 

Night  came  and  passed  away ;  and  on  the  following  morning,  when  Alice  would 
again  have  eschewed  visiting  the  young  man,  her  father  so  decidedly,  and  as  she 
thought,  with  so  much  meaning  in  his  tone,  refused  to  take  her  place — and  prayed  her 
with  an  air  so  earnest — reminding  her,  that  she  would  have  this  duty,  which  seemed 
so  irksome,  to  perform  but  one  day  longer — to  go  at  once,  without  more  foolish  and 
unkind  delay — that  she  could  not  decline  it ;  but  found  herself  obliged,  though  most 
reluctantly,  to  visit  Marmaduke  with  her  accustomed  burthen.  It  would  have  been, 
perhaps,  difficult  for  Alice  to  have  explained  why  she  felt  that  reluctance ;  for  she  of 
late  had  certainly  looked  forward  to  the  hour  for  those  stolen  interviews,  with  interest 
and  not  unpleasurable  agitation  ;  and  most  assuredly,  had  Wyvil  been  at  that  moment  a 
visitor  at  large  in  her  father's  hospitable  mansion,  she  would  not  have  shunned  meeting 
him,  or  even  wished  to  eschew  his  company.  Most  probably  it  was  a  secret,  and  not 
unnatural,  sense  of  modesty — now  that  she  had  become  apprised  of  her  own  feelings — 
which  hindered  her  from  seeking,  as  it  might  appear,  an  interview  with  one  she  loved, 
tut  whose  attachment  toward  herself— if  that  he  was  indeed  attached— was  unavowed, 


OR,     THE     MAID'S     REVENGE.  *I3 

ftnd  buried  in  the  depths  of  his  own  heart.  She  felt,  too,  it  is  more  than  likely,  that 
most  unreal,  but  at  the  same  time  most  natural  dread,  that  he,  concerning  whom  her 
thoughts  had  been  so  much  engaged  during  the  last  two  days,  must  have  arrived  during 
the  same  period  at  the  same  conclusions  with  herself — must  have  penetrated  her  secret 
sympathies,  and  become  the  lord,  as  it  were,  and  judge  of  all  her  hidden  sentiments. 
So  that,  she  fancied,  it  would  appear  to  him  as  if  she  had  come  thither — had  sought 
him  out  in  short — only  to  seek  a  solution  of  her  own  doubts  and  fears ;  to  give  him  an 
opportunity  of  telling  his  passion,  and  of  learning  that  it  was  returned  by  equal,  perhaps 
earlier,  passion  of  her  own !  The  very  thought  made  her  cheeks  burn  with  painful 
blushes ;  made  her  limbs  tremble,  and  her  tongue  falter ;  so  that  it  would,  in  truth, 
have  been  impossible  for  any  man  of  common  penetration  not  to  perceive  that  Alice, 
as  she  entered  on  that  morning  the  hiding-place  of  Wyvil,  was  under  the  immediate 
influence  of  some  strong  mental  agitation.  So  certain  is  it  that  in  women  of  the  better 
order,  the  existence  of  deep  passion  is  far  more  frequently  discovered  to  those  from 
whom  they  wish  the  most  to  hide  it,  through  the  very  means  they  have  adopted  to  con- 
ceal  it,  than  by  direct  and  open  revelation.  Besides  this,  it  is  very  rare  that  a  man, 
himself  loving  or  inclined  to  love  a  woman,  can  long  remain  in  real  ignorance  of  her 
sentiments  toward  himself,  unless  in  those  flagitious  cases,  where  direct  means  are  taken 
by  the  designing  and  coquettish  to  keep  him  in  suspense  and  darkness.  When,  there- 
fore,  Alice  entered  the  small  chamber,  though  she  had  done  so  fifty  times  at  least  before 
without  exhibiting  the  smallest  signs  of  confusion,  it  was  with  such  an  air  of  conscious 
bashfulness,  that  Marmaduke  at  once  perceived  the  alteration  in  her  manner. 

It  would  be  now  of  no  avail  to  trace  the  progress  of  his  sentiments,  to  note  how  first 
the  seeds  of  future  passion  were  sown  within  his  bosom ;  for  to  no  one,  who  with  a 
fancy  disengaged  and  a  heart  free  has  been  thrown  accidentally  into  the  constant  and 
familiar  society  of  a  young  and  very  lovely  woman,  can  it  be  a  matter  of  wonder,  that 
Wyvil,  shut  up  as  he  was  in  absolute  seclusion  from  all  the  world  except  one  sweet  and 
beautiful  girl,  preeminently  gifted  with  all  the  charms  that  most  adorn  her  sex  and  cap- 
tivate the  other,  should  have  become  enamored ;  especially  when  to  the  strong  attrac- 
tions of  beauty,  wit,  and  gentleness,  are  superadded  the  strong  plea  of  gratitude.  From 
the  first  moment  of  their  meeting,  marked  as  it  was  on  her  part  by  so  much  of  high 
though  gentle  spirit — by  so  much  generosity,  and  readiness  of  mind,  and  courage,  a  deep 
sense  of  admiration  had  possessed  him  ;  and  daily,  more  and  more,  that  admiration, 
blended  with  warmer  gratitude  and  fostered  by  the  constant  observation  of  her  sweet 
womanly  character,  her  gentleness  and  easy  grace  and  artlesss  frankness,  had  grown 
up  into  strong  and  burning  love.  Some  hint  of  this  Wyvil  had  casually  and  indistinctly, 
perhaps  half-unintentionally,  dropped  to  her  father ;  and  instantly  perceiving  the  change 
which  followed  his  words  in  the  expression  of  the  aged  man,  and  coupling  with  that 
grave  sad  shadow  the  absence  of  Alice  from  his  cell  during  two  whole  days,  he  had 
been  torturing  himself  with  every  kind  of  vague  and  jealous  fancy,  till  he  had  worked 
himself  into  such  a  fever  of  hope,  and  rivalry,  and  anxious  passion,  that  he  felt  almost 
ready  to  sacrifice  and  surrender  everything,  so  he  could  only  be  resolved  what  was  the 
nature  of  her  feelings.  And  now  when  she  came  in  with  a  faltering  step,  a  cheek 
suffused  with  momentary  crimson,  and  in  a  moment  after  pallid  as  monumental  marble  ; 
a  downcast  eye  that  suffered  not  one  radiant  glance  to  flash  through  the  long  lashes, 
and  a  perceptible  air  of  timidity  and  agitation  in  her  whole  bearing  and  demeanor,  he 
started  hurriedly  from  his  seat,  and  rushed  to  meet  her,  with  his  whole  spirit  beaming 
from  his  every  feature. 

"  Oh  !"  cried  he,  in  a  passionate  and  broken  voice — "  why — oh  why — have  you  de- 
serted me  ?  You  do  not — oh,  no !  you  cannot  think  how  wretched  I  have  been,  how 
miserably  sad  and  anxious — have  I  offended  you  in  anything  ?  oh  surely — surely  not ; 
for  rather  would  I  die  a  thousand  deaths,  than  that  one  thought  of  mine  should  wound 
you  ?  or  can  it  be  that  you  are  wearied — wearied,  as  well  you  may  be,  of  wasting 
your  bright  hours  with  a  poor  prisoner  in  his  cheerless  cell  ?  yet,  dear— dearest  lady, 
could  you  but  know  how  exquisite  the  pleasure  is,  which  you  confer  even  by  your  brief. 

I 


74  MARMADTTKEWYVILJ 

est  visit,  so  it  be  lighted  by  your  kind  smile,  one  gentle  glance  of  those  compassionate 
eyes,  you  would  not  grudge  a  little  weariness — you  who  are  so  soft-hearted,  so  charita- 
ble to  the  feelings  of  all  others,  so  careless  of  your  own  the  while  !  and  that,  too,  when 
so  short  a  time  remains,  before  your  task  will  have  an  end  for  ever.  Yet,  perchance, 
even  this — this  end  which  I  cannot  so  much  as  contemplate  without  a  thrill  of  horror, 
is  unto  you  a  source  of  pleasure — of  congratulation !  You  do  not  speak — you  do  not 
answer  me  !"  he  went  on,  without  even  giving  her  the  time  to  answer  if  she  would, 
impetuously  and  carried  away  by  the  torrent  of  his  passions — "  You  will  not  answer 
me  !  I  doubt  not  that  you  are  glad  I  leave  you."  As  he  spoke  thus,  Alice,  who  had 
stood  paralyzed,  and  almost  frightened  at  the  rapidity  and  vehemence  with  which  he 
poured  forth  this  quick  flood  of  words,  raised  her  long  lashes  slowly,  and  looked  full  in 
his  face,  with  her  large  soft  blue  eyes  dilated  with  surprise,  not  all  unmixed  with 
apprehension. 

"  I  do  not  understand  you,"  she  said  simply,  after  a  little  pause — "  I  do  not  at 
all  understand  you,  Captain  Wyvil ;  of  course,  I  am  glad  that  you  are  about  to  be 
set  free  from  prison,  which  you  find  naturally  so  very  dull  and  dismal — of  course,  I  am 
glad  that  you  have  a  certain  prospect  of  escape  from  your  blood-thirsty  enemies.  I 
have  continually  been  in  terror  since  you  have  "lain  here  hidden,  lest  they  should  find 
you  out — of  course  I  am  glad,  Captain  Wyvil." 

"I  thought  so  !  yes  !  by  heaven  !  I  thought  so,"  exclaimed  he,  "  glad  to  be  rid  of  the 
poor,  helpless,  ruined,  runaway  cavalier,  who  has  been,  for  so  long  a  time,  a  burthen  on 
your  hospitality — a  clog  upon  your  gayer  pleasures.  By  God  !  I  do  believe  it  is  a  joy 
to  you,  to  think  that  you  shall  never  look  upon  me  any  more,  that  you  stand  there  so 
calm,  and  quiet,  and  unmoved.  Why,  you  had  shown  more  of  emotion  at  the  departure 
from  your  house  of  a  mere  servant — ay !  I  do  well  believe,  even  of  a  dog  !" 

"For  a  dog,"  answered  poor  Allice,  quite  dismayed  at  his  strange  vehemence, 
"  would  not  turn  and  rend  the  hand  that  had  been  kind  to  him  !"  and  with  the  words, 
she  burst  into  a  flood  of  weeping  so  passionate  and  so  convulsive,  that,  if  she  had  before 
appeared  unmoved  and  self-possessed,  such  charge  could  now  the  least  of  all  attach  to  her. 

"  You  weep,"  he  cried — "  you  weep,  oh,  heavens !  can  it  be  that  you  feel  any  care, 
any  regard — " 

"  Unkind,"  she  answered — "  oh,  ungenerous,  and  unkind  !  have  I  not  risked  my  life, 
and  what  is  dearer  fifty  fold — my  beloved  father's  !  to  conceal,  and  shelter,  and  protect 
you  ?  Have  I  not  gone  forth  in  the  night,  provoking  misconstruction  at  the  least,  if  not 
insult  and  actual  outrage,  to  plan  your  safe  escape?  Have  I  not  come  to  visit  you 
and  cheer  your  solitude,  at  all  hours  of  the  day,  and  almost  all  of  night — that  some 
might  call  me  forward  and  unmaidenly  ?  that  now  you  should  affront  me  with  such 
questions — out  on  it  I  is  this  generous  or  noble  ?" 

"  But  all  this,"  he  replied,  "  you  would  have  done  as  much  for  any  other.  It  was  an 
impulse,  a  kind  and  noble  and  heroic  impulse  !  but  still  an  impulse  only,  that  induced 
you  at  the  first  to  offer  me  an  asylum  from  my  enemies.  You  would  have  offered  it  to 
Astley,  or  Prince  Rupert — nay,  to  the  profligate  Wilmot,  as  you  did  offer  it  to  me." 

"'Ay  !  Alice  answered  him  indignantly — "ay !  or  to  any  nameless,  fugitive  who  had 
fought  for  his  king,  and  whose  life  was  in  instant  peril — ay !  by  my  word,  to  any  Puritan 
even,  whom  I  had  seen  with  the  avenger  panting  at  his  heels,  and  the  sword  thirsty  for 
his  life-blood.  To  any  man,  however  poor  or  mean  or  humble,  I  would  have  given 
shelter,  in  the  like  case,  until  the  peril  were  overpast.  But  if  you  think  I  would  have 
risked  my  good  report  to  aid  one  whom  I  did  not  believe  worthy — if  you  imagine  I 
would  have  given  my  poor  company  to  one  so  far  above  me  as  Prince  Rupert — much 
more  to  one  so  base  as  fame  speaks  my  lord  Wilmot ;  you  neither  honor  the  character 
of  a  true  woman,  nor  comprehend  the  heart  of  Alice  Selby !" 

"  You  would  not?"  he  exclaimed,  a  strong  and  joyful  light  illuminating  all  his  face, 
and  his  voice  sinking  to  its  tenderest  and  lowest  tones — "  you  would  not,  Alice,  and 
you  have  not  avoided  me  from  any  feeling  of  distaste  ;  and  you  will  not  forget  me,  so 
soon  as  I  have  left  your  doors ;  and  you  will  suffer  me  to  write,  and  tell  you  of  my 
future  fortunes?" 


OR, 


THE     MAIDJS     REVENGE.  75 


"  It  would  be  strange,  indeed,"  she  answered,  "  if  I  could  forget  one  very  speedily, 
whom  I  have  known  so  familiarly  and  well — if  I  were  capable  of  doing  so,  my  regard 
or  remembrance  were  little  worth  the  having." 

"But  shall  I  have  them,  Alice — but  shall  I  have  them?"  he  cried  eagerly — "for  by 
my  soul !  if  I  have  not^jE  care  not  for  my  life  a  maravedi!  I  care  not  whether  I  escape 
at  all !  I  would  to  God,  you  never  had  stepped  forth  to  save  me  !  that  I  had  never  looked 
upon  your  face,  for  it  will  haunt  me  to  my  grave,  imprinted  on  my  heart's  inmost  core 
in  living  fire !  Shall  I,  then,  have  them  Alice — and  will  you  let  me  write  to  you?" 

"  Most  surely  I  shall  not  forget  you — most  surely  I  shall  often  think  of  you,  shall  be 
glad  to  hear  of  your  welfare.  My  father  doubtless  will  rejoice  that  you  should  write 
him  of  your  whereabouts  and  your  well-being — for  me,  it  were  not  maidenly  to  receive 
letters  from  a  stranger." 

"  A  stranger !"  he  broke  forth  again,  half  angrily,  half  sadly — "  a  stranger !  and  is  it 
I — I  who  have  for  days,  nay  weeks,  but  lived  to  watch  each  glance  of  your  soft  eyes, 
but  fed  upon  your  smiles — is  it  I  whom  you  call  a  stranger?  oh!  cold,  how  cold  and 
haughty  !" 

"  Oh,  say  not  cold !  oh,  say  not  haughty,  Captain  Wyvil,"  she  answered  eagerly, 
while  the  blood  rushed  in  torrents  to  her  pale  cheek;  "for  indeed — indeed — I  am 
neither — but  tell  me,  what  else  but  a  stranger  could  the  world  term  you?" 

"  The  world !"  he  said,  "  the  world !"  with  a  contemptuous  sneer  curling  his  upper 
lip,  and  a  thick  frown  gathering  on  his  brow ;  "  the  base,  uncharitable,  fickle,  cold,  hard 
world  !  And  is  it — can  it  be  Alice  Selby,  that  bends  to  the  brute  clamor  of  the  knaves 
and  fools,  whom  all  trucklers  and  cowards,  fawners  upon  the  great  and  grinders  of  the 
poor,  have  styled — as  if  in  mockery — THE  WORLD  ?  Can  it  be,  that  she  shapes  her  con- 
duct to  meet  the  whimsies  of  the  beggarly  mob — or  regards  any  way  the  censure  of 
that  blast  of  frowzy  and  unsavory  breaths  that  bruit  the  world's  opinion?" 

"  It  can  be,"  she  replied,  "  it  is  !  and  I  am  sorry  that  you  should  think  otherwise.  I 
think  I  have  shown  already,  that  in  a  good  cause,  where  humanity  or  honor  point  our 
way,  while  the  world's  opinion  might  be  deemed  likely  to  lead  elsewhere — I  think,  I 
have  shown  to  which  I  yield  obedience.  But,  where  the  general  voice  is  confirmed  by 
the  small  still  voice  within — the  voice  that  speaks  the  loudest  in  dead  silence  !  or  in  all 
cases,  where  to  obey  is  to  conflict  with  no  superior  mandate,  to  bar  no  higher  duty — 
be  quite  sure,  Alice  Selby  does  regard  the  censure,  does  shape  her  course  to  the  opinion, 
of  what  men  style  the  world — to  make  up  which,  there  go  not  all  the  knaves  and  the 
fools  only,  but  all  the  great  and  good,  the  virtuous,  the  high-minded  and  the  noble,  of 
this  and  bygone  generations !  Be  sure  that  Alice  Selby  does  bend  to  this  great  voice— 
and  be  sure,  Captain  Wyvil,  oh !  be  sure,  that  she  who  does  not,  is  neither  a  high- 
minded  lady,  nor  yet  a  pure  true-hearted  woman !  But  to  pass  this,  Jtahat  would  you 
have  me  style  you — what  would  you  style  yourself,  if  not  a  stranger?'* 

"Your  lover !"  he  replied  impetuously,  throwing  himself  at  her  feet,  and  clasping  her 
small  trembling  hand,  which  she  strove  feebly  to  withdraw  and  impotently — "  your  true, 
devoted,  honorable  lover  !  You  must  have  seen — you  must  have  known,  oh !  Alice, 
Alice!  you  cannot  have  been  ignorant  thus  long  how  deeply,  passionately,  madly,  I 
adore  you.  You  cannot  but  have  seen,  have  known  all  this — and  knowing  it,  you 
cannot  have  permitted  me  to  rush  unchecked  and  hopeful  into  the  agony,  the  anguish, 
the  despair  of  loving  you,  adoring  you  in  vain !"  and  with  the  words,  as  she  had  let 
her  head  fall  almost  on  her  bosom,  while  her  hand  rested  passively  in  his,  and  he  might 
see  the  big  tears  stealing  silently  dow.n  her  pale  cheeks,  he  rose  and  stood  respectfully 
beside  her ;  and  after  gazing  for  a  moment  earnestly  on  her  emotion — "  I  hope,"  he 
added,  "  I  trust,  Alice,  I  have  not  now  mistaken  you  ;  these  are  not  tears  of  grief— or 
of  vexation,  Alice  ?" 

For  a  second's  space,  or  more,  she  stood  in  breathless  science,  then  with  an  effort  as 
it  were  she  raised  her  head  a  little,  and  strove  to  look  him  in  the  face  ;  but  she  could 
not  effect  it,  and  let  fall  her  eyes  again  sobbing  and  panting  as  though  her  heart  would 
break. 


T6  .       MARMADtTftE     WYVIL* 

"  Oh,  Alice !  lovely  Alice !"  he  whispered  tenderly,  "  answer  me,  I  beseech  you ;  or 
if  you  may  not  answer,  press  but  my  hand,  give  me  some  slight  token" — and  then  he 
paused,  and  no  sign  was  given  that  she  heard  or  would  regard  his  fond  entreaties.  "  It 
is  but  right,  and  fitting  your  own  dignity,"  he  said,  something  more  coolly  than  before, 
but  still  affectionately,  for  there  was  something  in  her  manner  tftit  told  him  she  was  not 
insensible  to  his  affection,  "  that  you  should  give  me  now  an  answer.  For  do  not  fan- 
cy  for  a  moment — I  am  certain  that  you  do  not  fancy  for  a  moment,  Alice — that  I  am 
one  who  would  entrap  a  maiden  into  engagements  unknown  to  her  parents.  Not  for 
worlds — not  to  win  thee,  even  thee,  Alice,  would  I  do  aught,  require  aught  that  could 
provoke  the  sternest  father's  censure  ;  that  could  call  forth  a  blush,  a  sigh,  a  sorrow,  a 
regret,  from  her  whom  I  would  make  my  wife,  when  long  years  should  have  flown,  and 
the  deceptive  meteor  of  strong  passion  faded  from  the  horizon  of  the  mind.  I  am  a 
gentleman  as  Master  Selby  knows,  of  honorable  birth,  of  station,  once  of  fortune  !  not, 
though  I  say  it,  all  unknown  to  fame  ;  and,  though  deprived  of  my  estates  by  this  disas- 
trous civil  strife,  not  so  impoverished  or  needy,  but  with  a  bold  heart  and  my  good 
sword  to  boot,  I  can  maintain  my  lady  as  a  Wyvil's  lady  and  a  Selby's  daughter  should 
be  maintained — in  honor.  Now  therefore,  Alice,  since  I  have  laid  my  whole  heart 
open  to  you,  since  you  cannot  but  say  that  I  have  dealt  with  you  in  frankness  and  sin- 
cerity, surely  you  will  be  frank  with  me  and  open.  If  you  can  love  me  as  I  hope — oh 
heaven  !  how  fervently  !  as  I  sometimes  have  almost  thought  you  could — let  me  speak 
of  it  to  your  good  father ;  if  not,  at  least  relieve  me  from  the  agony  of  this  suspense, 
and  let  me  go  my  way  a  wretched  and  heart-broken  being,  to  seek  my  death  as  the  best 
boon  that  God  can  grant  me,  at  the  pike's  point  or  at  the  cannon's  mouth.  Will  you 
not — will  you  not  say,  then,  that  you  love  me  ?" 

While  he  was  still  in  the  act  of  speaking,  the  little  hand  which  he  had  held  so  long 
imprisoned  in  his  own,  returned  the  pressure  of  his  fingers,  but  that  so  slightly  and  with 
so  timid  and  so  fluttering  a  touch,  that  it  was  scarce  perceptible  ;  still  it  was  felt,  it  gave 
him  hope,  that  he  continued  to  the  end,  observing  that  she  listened  to  his  every  word 
with  deep  attention ;  and  that  her  tears,  although  they  still  flowed,  gushed  not  now  with 
that  convulsive  violence  which  had  almost  alarmed  him  at  the  first,  but  trickled  from 
her  long  dark  lashes,  in  a  calm  unpainful  current.  And  now,  as  his  voice  ceased,  she 
raised  her  eyes  to  his,  full  of  a  sweet  and  dove-like  tenderness  that  stilled  his  every  ap- 
prehension in  a  moment,  and  a  bright  radiant  smile  glanced  through  her  falling  tears, 
like  a  first  April  sunbeam  shimmering  through  the  raindrops  of  a  morning  shower. 
Words  were  perhaps  scarce  needed,  for  the  calm  light  of  that  pure  artless  face,  fraught 
with  a  quiet  happiness,  spoke  more  than  volumes ;  yet,  feeling  that  it  was  her  duty  to 
speak  out — 

"  Oh !  Captain  Wyvil !"  she  said,  in  a  voice  which  though  low  and  musical  was  now 
quite  firm  and  trembled  not  at  all — "  Oh,  Captain  Wyvil,  now  you  have  made  me  very 
happy !" 

"  Alice,  my  own,  own  Alice  !"  he  exclaimed,  clasping  her  by  a  sudden  impulse  in 
his  arms,  while  her  fair  head,  with  all  its  rich  profusion  of  brown  curls,  dropped  on  his 
shoulder  like  a  lily  overcharged  with  dew-drops — "will  you,  indeed — indeed — be 
mine  forever?" 

"For  ever!  Marmaduke,"  she  faltered  forth  in  tones  scarce  audible — "  for  ever  and 
for  ever !"  Their  eyes  met  as  she  spoke  the  words,  full  of  true  chaste  affection  ;  and  as 
he  drew  her  fondly  to  his  bosom,  their  lips  met  likewise  in  the  first  love  kiss ;  while 
from  behind,  a  deep  sonorous  voice,  firmer  than  often  issues  from  the  organs  of  the  aged, 
breathed  forth  "  Amen  !  amen  !  my  children — my  blessing  be  upon  you  both — and  may 
God's  blessing,  without  which  mine  is  nothing,  be  with  you  both  for  ever !" 

It  was  Mark  Selby,  who,  alarmed  somewhat  by  the  protracted  absence  of  his  daugh- 
ter, had  come  to  seek  her,  and  actually  had  stood  in  the  full  sight  of  both — although 
they  were  so  much  absorbed  in  the  strong  ecstacy  of  passion,  that  they  had  neither  ears 
nor  eyes  for  aught  besides  themselves — during  the  last  ten  minutes.  Marmaduke  started 
at  the  voice,  and  turned  round  with  a  hurried  gesture ;  but  the  expression  of  his  features 
was  tranquil,  open,  and  quite  fearless. 


OR,     THE     MAID'S     REVENGE.  77 

"  I  pray  you,  think  not,"  he  began :  but  ere  he  could  say  any  more,  the  old  man  in- 
terrupted  him — "  I  have  no  need  to  think,  Captain  Wyvil,  for  I  have  heard  every  word 
you  have  spoken  these  ten  minutes  past.  I  did  not  mean  to  listen,  you  may  be  quite 
sure — but  I  had  heard  so  much  before  I  could  attract  your  notice,  that  I  believed  it  best 
to  let  this  dear  child  answer  you,  before  my  presence  could  any  way  affect  or  influence 
her  choice.  I  thank  you  for  your  noble,  manly  cando*;  and  I  can  give  you  no  more 
proof  of  my  belief  in  your  high  qualities,  than  in  surrendering  to  you  this  peerless  jewel 
— this  my  heart's  latest  idol."  And  he  embraced  the  lovely  girl  with  a  long  agonizing 
ecstacy  of  fondness,  while  the  big  tears  rushed  forth  like  summer  rain  from  his  old  lids, 
and  mingled  with  the  calmer  drops  that  dewed  the  cheeks  of  Alice — "  God  grant  that 
you  prove  worthy  of  her — and  bless  you  both,  and  keep  you  here  and  hereafter,  with 
his  boundless  mercy  I" 


CHAPTER   XVI. 

THREE  days  had  passed  since  Bartram's  interview  with  Alice,  and  the  third  sun  had 
set  and  night  was  falling  fast  over  the  lovely  scenery  of  Woolverton,  when  three  strong 
men  well  armed  with  quarter-staves  and  broadswords,  but  without  any  fire-arms,  came 
cautiously  out  of  one  of  the  dense  coppices  that  lined  the  old  park  wall,  and  stealing 
with  light  steps  and  watchful  eyes  across  the  open  lawn,  ensconced  themselves  in  a  thick 
brake  of  holly  bushes  which  grew  on  the  brink  of  the  stream,  not  very  far  from  the 
bridge  which  Chaloner  had  so  manfully  defended,  and  the  scene  of  Sherlock's  bold 
equestrian  exploit.  A  few  minutes  after  they  had  hidden  themselves,  the  gate-house 
clock  struck  seven  ;  and  while  its  chimes  were  still  ringing  through  the  woodlands,  the 
distant  flourish  of  a  cavalry  trumpet  came  floating  on  the  night- wind,  and  the  faint 
sounds  of  a  squadron  on  the  march. 

About  half  an  hour  later,  in  the  green  winding  lane  that  led  from  the  Stag's  Head 
past  the  lodges  into  the  Worcester  turnpike,  some  hundred  yards  below  the  park  gates, 
a  troop  of  the  Ironsides  was  drawn  up,  the  men  sitting  motionless  on  their  strong  hor- 
ses, with  their  drawn  broadswords  in  their  hands ;  while  their  captain  and  two  subal- 
terns, having  dismounted  from  their  chargers,  stood  a  few  paces  in  advance  conversing 
eagerly,  though  in  low  guarded  tones,  keeping  strict  watch  as  it  would  seem,  even 
while  they  talked  most  earnestly. 

"  I  do  believe,  for  my  part,"  whispered  one,  "  that  it  is  a  mere  cheat  and  trapan. 
For  what,  I  do  beseech  you,  should  we  watch  here  where  any  one  could  see  us  at  fifty 
paces  distance,  or  farther  if  he  had  occasion  to  fear  anything  ?" 

"  I  do  somewhat  mistrust  the  same,"  replied  another ;  "  yet  sure  I  am  that  letter 
was  in  Despard's  hand,  and  he  was  ever  a  stanch  bloodhound  on  the  track  of  any  cava- 
lier. Besides,  we  have  our  orders ;  and  at  the  worst  it  is  but  a  night's  ride,  and  a  cold 
halt  here  for  an  hour  or  so.  Move  hence  I  will  not  until  the  clock  strike  nine.  Hush  I 
was  not  that  a  sound  by  the  ditch  side  there  ?" 

At  the  same  moment  when  he  spoke,  a  vidette,  who  was  thrown  forward  some  eight 
or  ten  yards  in  advance,  brought  up  his  carbine  to  the  port  and  challenged  loudly — but 
no  reply  was  made,  nor  was  the  least  noise  heard  again,  though  the  whole  party  listened 
with  ears  sharpened  by  the  most  anxious  expectation. 

Just  as  these  things  were  going  on  without  the  park,  matters  were  drawing  rapidly 
toward  a  crisis  within  the  walls ;  for  as  it  grew  more  dark,  two  other  men,  one  a  tall 
stout  athletic  countryman,  the  other  a  short  thickset  figure,  somewhat  apparently 
advanced  in  years  but  active  still  and  vigorous,  came  out  from  a  plantation  nearer  the 
Stag's  Head  inn  than  the  coppice  whence  the  three  former  had  emerged ;  and  coming 
up  to  the  stream,  which  was  quite  shallow  in  that  place  rippling  swiftly  over  a  gravel 
bed,  couched  themselves  in  the  long  grass  exactly  opposite  the  mouth  of  a  low  cave, 
which  lay  in  a  right  line  under  the  holly  brake  wherein  the  others  were  ensconced,  at 


78  MAtLMADtTKE     WYVILJ 

some  ten  paces  distant.  The  three  men  who  had  come  first  to  the  ground  surveyed 
the  others  quietly  as  they  came  up,  and  remarked  to  one  another,  with  a  grim  air  of 
satisfaction,  that  they  had  no  arms  except  staves,  and  perhaps  pistols,  which  they  would 
not,  even  if  they  had  them,  dare  to  use  for  fear  of  attracting  observation.  But  neither 
they  nor  the  new-comers  saw  that  a  sixth  man  was  soon  after  added  to  the  number, 
who  came  out  crouching  from  ihe  coppice  at  the  very  spot  whence  the  first  three  had 
issued,  with  strange  and  uncouth  gestures,  stooping  at  times  quite  to  the  ground,  and 
crawling  on  his  hands  and  knees,  seeking  as  it  appeared  for  some  track  on  the  dewy 
grass,  which  he  examined  carefully  with  his  hands,  and  seemed  at  times  even  to  snuff 
at,  like  a  hound  trailing  a  doubtful  scent.  By  these  means,  and  by  slow  degrees,  he 
followed  exactly  on  the  steps  of  Despard  and  his  comrades — for  it  was  they  who  lay  hid 
in  the  hollies — till  he  was  now  within  six  feet  of  their  very  lair ;  but  in  so  total  silence 
had  he  crawled  up  from  behind,  and  with  so  much  sagacity,  as  it  appeared,  of  caution, 
that  they  had  neither  heard  him  nor  suspected  his  approach ;  then  raising  his  head 
somewhat,  he  cast  a  wild  glance  round  him,  and  again  seemed  to  snuff  the  air ;  and 
then  as  if  contented  sank  quietly  down  into  the  covert,  which  grew  thick  and  shadowy 
on  the  river's  margin.  At  the  same  silent  hour,  in  the  deepest  part  of  the  heronry 
wood,  hard  by  a  narrow  path  winding  among  the  swampy  brakes,  upon  the  firmer 
ground,  which  led  from  a  narrow  postern  in  the  park  wall  to  the  same  green  lane  which 
has  so  many  times  been  mentioned,  entering  it  a  mile  or  more  westward  of  the  Stag's 
Head,  stood  a  young  man  appareled  as  a  forester,  holding  two  noble  chargers ;  one  a 
blood-bay  with  coal-black  mane  and  tail,  the  other  a  dark  iron-gray,  both  of  them  evi- 
dently thorough-bred,  and  that  of  the  best  strain  of  blood,  but  very  plainly  harnessed 
with  hunting-saddles  somewhat  old  and  used,  rude  leathern  bridles,  and  coarsely  fash- 
ioned holsters — yet  were  they  exquisitely  groomed  and  in  superb  condition,  their  skins 
as  smooth  and  soft  as  velvet,  and  so  bright  that  they  actually  glittered  even  in  the  few 
faint  starbeams,  that  stole  through  the  floating  clouds  which  clothed  the  moonless  skies. 
A  short  but  heavy  musketoon  leaned  against  the  bole  of  a  huge  ash-tree  close  beside 
him,  with  a  large  noble  bloodhound  lying  upon  the  ground  near  to  it. 

Meanwhile,  within  the  Hall  all  had  been  carefully  prepared  for  Marmaduke's  escape; 
a  tearful  and  most  passionate  farewell  had  passed  between  the  cavalier  and  his  affianced 
bride  ;  between  whom  it  had  been  arranged,  that  so  soon  as  they  should  be  certainly 
advised  of  his  arrival  on  the  safe  coast  of  France,  every  exertion  should  be  made  to 
procure  his  free  pardon — a  thing  by  no  means  to  be  despaired  of  when  he  should  once 
be  out  of  reach  of  capture  !  and  failing  that,  and  no  change  for  the  better  occurring  in 
the  state  of  politics  at  home,  that  Alice,  under  her  father's  escort,  should  follow  him  to 
France,  and  there  become  his  wife,  under  a  milder  rule  and  in  a  happier  realm  than 
poor  distracted  England.  This  settled,  when  they  had  torn  themselves  for  the  last  time 
asunder,  old  Selby  led  his  guest  through  all  the  devious  passages,  and  let  him  out  at  the 
gate  which  communicated  with  the  arched  drain,  promising  to  wait  there  for  an  hour 
unless  he  should  return  before  that  period  had  elapsed.  He  had  not  long  to  wait,  how- 
ever, as  it  happened — for  within  twenty  minutes  Wyvil  returned  in  haste  and  breathless, 
and  told  his  anxious  friend,  now  finding  that  the  token  he  expected  was  not  in  its  place 
he  had  crept  cautiously  to  the  drain-mouth,  and  thence  discovered  a  party  of  the  Iron- 
sides posted  as  if  upon  the  watch,  with  carbines  ready  and  drawn  broadswords — that  he 
had  been  challenged  by  a  vidette,  but  had  got  off,  as  he  believed,  unseen  and  unsus- 
pected. This  explanation  passed  while  they  were  hastening,  after  the  gate  had  been 
sufficiently  secured  behind  them,  toward  the  other  outlet;  and  when  they  reached  it, 
once  more  affectionately  pressing  the  young  soldier  to  his  bosom,  the  noble-minded  old 
man  bade  him  go  once  more,  taking  God's  blessing  with  him,  and  waited  long  and 
anxiously,  holding  the  door  in  hand  before  he  ventured  again  to  make  it  fast;  but  no 
more  was  he  disturbed  that  night,  and  when  two  hours  had  passed,  he  rejoined  Alice, 
to  soothe  her  with  the  comfortable  tidings,  that  doubtless  her  young  lover  had  escaped 
so  far  securely  on  his  way  seaward. 

The  clock  had  not  struck  eight,  when  Wyvil  reached  the  mouth  of  the  low  cavern; 


OR,     THE     MAID'S     REVENGE.  79 

and  though,  as  he  peered  stealthily  out  of  its  narrow  opening  into  the  misty  darkness, 
he  could  discover  no  sign  of  any  persons  on  the  watch,  he  was  yet  mindful  of  the 
peddler's  message,  and  took  good  care  to  show  no  part  of  his  person,  not  so  much  as 
the  tips  of  his  mustaches,  beyond  the  entrance.  He  did  not  lie  there  very  long,  how. 
ever,  before  a  keen  shrill  whistle  rose  from  the  tall  fern  on  the  farther  margin  of  the 
rivulet,  and  was  again  and  again  repeated,  with  an  interval  of  perhaps  twenty  seconds 
between  each  signal.  No  person  indeed  showed  himself,  yet  Marmaduke,  who  had  on 
many  a  former  occasion  held  intercourse  with  Bartram,  knew  the  sharp  call  so  well 
that  he  did  not  hesitate  a  moment  to  extricate  himself  from  the  sandy  burrow  and 
descend  into  the  channel  of  the  stream — at  the  very  instant,  however,  in  which  he  left 
the  cavern,  several  heavy  stones  and  a  quantity  of  loose  earth  came  rolling  down  the 
bank  from  above,  and  before  they  had  reached  the  bottom  of  the  declivity  three  stout 
men,  by  whose  feet  they  had  been  spurned  from  the  summit,  leaped  down  upon  him, 
calling  aloud,  and  bidding  him  surrender  "  in  the  name  of  God  and  the  commonwealth 
of  England."  Marmaduke  had  in  fact  scarcely  got  sure  foothold,  when  the  enemy  was 
on  him  ;  yet  he  turned  sharply  round  to  face  them,  drawing  his  rapier  when  he  did  so ; 
while,  even  in  that  anjcious  moment,  he  had  presence  of  mind  to  take  notice  that  Sher- 
lock and  the  peddler  had  sprung  out  of  their  covert  at  this  unexpected  onslaught,  and 
were  rushing  down  to  his  assistance  with  all  speed.  Too  late,  however,  was  he  in  his 
movement ;  for  ere  his  sword  was  well  out  of  the  scabbard,  and  long  before  he  could 
shift  it  to  parry  or  to  strike,  a  sweeping  blow  of  a  huge  two-handed  quarter-staff  was 
dealt  him  on  the  right  side  of  the  head,  which  felled  him  instantly  into  the  channel  of 
the  stream.  Very  lucky  was  it  for  him,  that  he  had  turned  completely  round  before  the 
blow  took  effect ;  for  as  he  dropped  the  first  man  sprung  upon  him,  kneeling  upon  his 
breast  as  he  lay  face  upward  in  the  shallow  water,  and  grappling  his  throat  with  both 
hands ;  so  that,  stunned  as  he  was  by  the  blow,  and  helpless  to  arise,  he  must  have 
necessarily  been  suffocated,  had  he  fallen  on  his  face,  before  the  struggle  ended. 

Meanwhile,  the  other  ruffians,  seeing  that  Marmaduke  was  for  the  moment  quite 
unable  to  resist,  rushed  upon  Bartram  and  the  gallant  farmer,  pressing  them  so  hard 
with  their  long  two-edged  rapiers,  against  which  the  others  had  nothing  but  their  oaken 
staves,  that  it  was  quite  impossible  for  them  to  offer  any  aid  to  the  young  cavalier ; 
and  now  they  had  more  than  enough  to  do  to  defend  themselves,  and  must  have  been 
slain  speedily  or  have  surrendered,  had  not  a  new  auxiliary  rushed  suddenly,  and  that 
most  unexpectedly,  upon  the  scene.  A  long,  protracted  and  most  fearful  howl  gave  the 
first  note  of  his  approach,  as  the  person  who  had  lain  hidden  in  the  brake  immediately 
behind  the  ruffians,  darted  with  strange  fantastic  bounds  and  frantic  gestures  down  the 
steep  river  bank,  and  seizing  Despard — for  he  it  was  who  knelt  so  cowardly  on  the 
young  soldier's  chest — tore  him  away  from  his  hold  as  if  he  had  been  a  mere  child ;  and 
shaking  him  for  a  moment  at  arms'  length,  with  another  howl,  fiercer  and  shriller,  and 
more  fiendish  in  its  tones  than  any  yell  that  ever  issued  from  the  lips  of  man — even  of 
the  untameable  and  savage  Indian !  hurled  him  to  earth,  and  leaping  like  a  tiger  on  his 
prey,  grasped  with  his  fingers,  strangely  and  fearfully  contorted,  the  wind-pipe  of  his 
tortured  victim ;  compressing  it  with  all  his  might,  and  dashing  his  head  up  and  down 
upon  the  ragged  flints  till  the  blood  gushed  from  it  in  torrents — gibbering  all  the  while, 
and  uttering  a  low  chuckling  laugh  of  triumph,  that,  when  connected  with  the  savage 
fury  of  his  onset,  was  perhaps  even  more  revolting  than  the  long  beast-like  howl  which 
had  preceded  it. 

All  this  passed  in  a  moment — in  far  less  time  than  it  has  taken  to  describe  it ;  for  as 
soon  as  he  was  released  from  the  weight  of  Despard — the  temporary  faintness  produced 
by  the  stunning  blow  having  immediately  yielded  to  the  effects  of  the  cold  water, 
which  had  completely  overflowed  his  face  and  temples — Wyvil  sprang  to  his  feet,  bran- 
dishing  the  sword  which  he  had  never  let  go  for  a  moment,  and  hurried  to  the  aid  of 
his  companions,  whom  he  saw  overmatched  in  the  unequal  combat — but  eagerly  as  he 
leaped  forward,  he  was  yet  all  too  late  !  for  when  they  heard  that  wild  and  devilish  out- 
cry,  and  saw  a  fourth  man  rushing  from  the  brake,  which  they  had  believed  to  be 


80  MARMADTTKEWYVIL; 

tenanted  by  themselves  alone,  and  dealing  such  extraordinary  retribution  on  their  com. 
rade,  the  superstitious  terrors — the  only  terrors  to  which  they  were  accessible — of  the 
desperadoes,  were  aroused.  "  It  is  the  fiend !"  cried  one  ;  "  fly  1  fly  !  in  God's  name  1" 
and,  with  the  word,  leaving  their  late  opponents  unquestioned  masters  of  the  field,  and 
wondering  only  that  they  were  not  pursued,  the  ruffians  broke  away,  and  rushing 
through  the  scattered  bushes,  sought  the  wild  woods,  and  actually  ran  miles  before 
they  paused  even  for  a  moment,  in  mute  and  breathless  consternation.  But  not  for  that 
did  the  death-struggle  cease  between  the  disgraced  roundhead  soldier  and  his  uncouth 
antagonist ;  strong  as  he  was,  and  desperately  as  he  struggled  for  his  life,  striking  vio- 
lent, although  impotent  blows  with  the  dagger  which  he  had  contrived  to  draw,  and 
Btriving  by  the  most  fearful  muscular  efforts  to  dislodge  his  inveterate  antagonist,  yet  all 
his  efforts  were  in  vain ;  for  his  persecutor  clung  to  his  throat  with  an  iron  grasp,  and 
wrenched  his  head  completely  round,  still  muttering  and  gibbering,  and  laughing  with 
a  fierce  fiendish  glee,  and  making  horrible  grimaces — grinding  his  strong  white  teeth 
till  the  foam  flew  from  his  lips,  like  froth  churned  from  the  tushes  of  the  hunted  boar ; 
and  falling  on  the  face  of  the  dying  Puritan,  was  blent  into  a  frightful  lather,  all  clotted 
with  the  gore  that  flowed  from  his  deep  wounds. 

And  now  the  smothered  imprecations — the  broken  sobs  and  gasps  of  the  throttled 
roundhead,  were  changed  into  the  dread  death-rattle ;  his  eyeballs  rolled  up  mean- 
ingless ;  his  lips  were  painfully  convulsed,  and  white  as  ashes,  while  all  the  rest  of  his 
countenance  was  purple  almost  to  blackness  with  the  blood  forced  into  all  his  pores  by 
that  strong  gripe — the  dagger  fell  from  his  relaxed  and  nerveless  fingers — a  sharp  quick 
shudder  shot  through  his  whole  frame,  and  then  all  was  still — the  powerful  limbs  col- 
lapsed and  flaccid — the  staring  eyes  half  starting  from  their  sockets  glared  with  a  dull 
white  film — the  chest  that  heaved  of  late  with  energy  so  terrible,  inert  and  motionless; 
and  all  the  fiery  passions,  the  inordinate  lust  of  gold,  the  hot  insatiable  ambition,  the 
recklessness  of  human  life,  the  strong  fixed  purpose,  the  undaunted  courage  which  but 
now  fluttered  in  that  living  throbbing  heart — all  quenched,  and  darkened,  and  at  rest 
for  ever  !  Ere  Wyvil  and  his  trusty  friends  could  reach  the  scene  of  the  protracted 
struggle — for,  although  he  was  himself  quite  ignorant  of  the  persons  both  of  his  assailant 
and  his  rescuers,  Bartram  and  Sherlock  suspected  the  identity  of  both — knew  that  of 
one,  from  the  first  utterance  of  the  awful  outcry  that  harbingered  his  coming — all  was 
completely  over  ;  and  as  they  came  up,  Martin  Rainsford — for  it  was  the  poor  idiot, 
whose  instinctive  hate  for  Despard  had  worked  out  Marmaduke's  deliverance — uprose 
from  the  dead  body,  and  actually  danced  on  the  cold  senseless  clay,  in  the  wild  exult- 
ation of  his  mad  revenge. 

"  Ha !  ha !"  he  cried  aloud  articulately,  and  in  a  clear  high  voice — "  Ha !  ha ! 
rogue  roundhead — wilt  kill  more  faithful  guardians  of  the  weak  ?  wilt  beat  poor  Mar- 
tin ?  wilt  do  more  evil  now  ?  wilt  shed  more  blood  ?  Not  thou,  I  warrant  me — not 
thou!  Ha,  ha  !  ha,  ha!"  and  then  the  spirit  of  appalling  vengeance  which,  it  would 
seem,  had  gifted  him  with  a  new  and  strange  instinct,  to  hunt  out  and  destroy  the  slayer 
of  his  favorite  mastiff,  deserted  him  at  once ;  and  he  fell  down  as  helpless  and  nerveless 
as  the  body  of  his  victim,  upon  the  blood-stained  sod  beside  it,  in  a  dread  epilectic 
paroxysm. 

"  Now,  before  Heaven  !"  exclaimed  the  peddler,  who,  as  he  looked  upon  that  awful 
spectacle,  bold  as  he  was,  and  fearless,  and  well  accustomed  to  look  unmoved  on 
bloodshed,  felt  his  cheek  pale  and  his  hair  bristle — "  Now,  before  Heaven  !  although 
we  owe  our  safety  to  it ;  this  thing  is  very  terrible  !  The  idiot  boy  hath  slain  him — 
and  is,  I  do  believe,  sped  by  some  chance  blow  likewise !" 

"  Now,  God  forbid  it  be  so !"  cried  John  Sherlock,  kneeling  down  as  he  spoke  beside 
the  boy ;  "  for  if  it  were  so,  it  would  kill  the  old  dame  outright,  and  bring  sweet  Marian 
to  the  grave,  ere  many  months  had  flown.  But  no,"  he  said — "  but  no !  he  is  not 
dead,  nor  even  wounded — he  hath  but  fallen  in  a  fit,  such  as  he  ever  takes  after 
uncommon  and  unusual  excitement." 

"  Who  is  he  then  ?"  asked  Wyvil— "who  is  he— do  you  know  him  ?  and  who  is  this 
that  he  has  slain?" 


OR,     THE     MAID'S     REVENGE,  81 

"We  have  no  time  to  talk  of  such  things,  Captain  Wyvil,"  answered  the  peddler, 
hastily — we  must  fly  straightway.  Meantime  we  must  leave  you,  John  Sherlock,  to 
settle  all  the  rest.  I  fear  me  much  this  dead  man,  and  those  runaways,  will  call  forth 
fresh  suspicion  against  good  Master  Selby." 

"  Not  it !  not  it !"  cried  Sherlock ;  "  those  cowardly  dogs  who  ran,  were  but  chance 
fellows  of  that  dead  ruffian  yonder.  I  know  them  well — they  are  the  same  thieves 
who  set  on  Mistress  Alice — disbanded  desperadoes  of  the  royal  army,  escaped,  I  trow, 
from  the  defeat  at  Worcester,  and  forced  to  rob  and  pillage  by  sheer  want.  How  they 
fell  in  with  this  knave  Despard,  I  know  not,  and  marvel  at  it  too ;  but  we  may  rest 
quite  certain,  that  they  will  not  tell  aught  of  what  has  passed  this  night — in  truth  they 
dure  not — for  they  will  fly  the  Puritans  as  the  hare  flies  the  grayhound  ;  and  for  their 
lives,  they  dare  not  tell  a  cavalier  how  they  would  have  betrayed  and  captured  one  of 
their  own  party — no!  no!  no  fear  of  them — and  as  for  this  dead  dog!  I  will  tie  such 
a  stone  about  his  neck  as  shall  find  its  way  with  him  to  the  bottom  of  the  deep  black 
pool  underneath  the  waterfall  below  there.  It  will  rain  hard  too  before  daylight,  and 
that  will  wash  away  all  traces  of  the  scuffle.  I  will  get  Martin  home  anon ;  and  frame 
some  story  how  I  found  him  in  a  fit  out  in  the  fields — that  will  account  too  for  the 
blood  upon  his  garments — and  if  he  say  aught  of  it,  as  he  is  not  very  like,  poor  fellow  ! 
seeing  he  does  not  speak  thrice  between  Lent  and  Christmas — no  one  will  notice  it  at 
all.  Now,  God  give  you  good  speed,  Master  Bartram ;  but  tarry  not  here  I  beseech 
you,  else  shall  we  but  lose  our  pains.  Safe  journey  to  you,  Captain  ;  I  think  you  will 
'scape  scot  free,  after  all's  done.  But  I  say,  Bartram,  not  a  word  to  Frank  Norman  of 
this  job — not  a  word  for  your  life  !" 

"  No,  no,"  replied  the  peddler ;  "  it  is  a  bad  business  as  it  is,  and  I'll  not  make  it 
worse,  depend  on  it.  Come,  Captain  Wyvil,  John's  in  the  right  of  it,  we  must  make 
hay  while  the  sun  shines ;"  and  with  these  words,  he  started  at  a  long  swinging  pace 
that  brought  them  within  a  few  minutes  to  the  postern  gate  which  had  been  left  ajar 
on  purpose,  so  that  they  passed  unhindred  into  the  heronry  wood,  closing  the  door  which 
was  fastened  by  a  spring  lock  carefully  behind  them.  A  few  steps  farther  brought  them 
to  the  spot  where  Norman  held  the  horse  ;  and  mounting  instantly,  scarce  interchanging 
five  words  with  the  forester,  they  rode  away  as  quickly  as  the  nature  of  the  ground 
would  permit,  until  they  reached  the  lane.  There  Bartram  set  spurs  to  his  bold  bay 
horse,  and  put  him  resolutely  at  the  strong,  quickset  hedge,  which  separated  it  from  the 
cultivated  fields,  clearing  it  with  a  gallant  leap.  Marmaduke  followed  not  a  horse's 
length  behind  ;  and  thence  they  drove  at  a  hard  gallop  athwart  the  open  country,  sweep- 
ing in  their  career  across  wide  brooks  and  over  stiff  inclosures,  unchecked  and  fearless 
— for  they  dared  not  trust  themselves  on  the  high  roads,  which  were  patrolled  by  parties 
from  the  neighboring  garrisons — until  they  reached  a  lonely  hovel  at  the  verge  of  a  vast 
tract  of  forest  land,  with  the  Welsh  mountains  rising  dark  beyond  it  against  the  cloudy 
sky.  There  a  small  clownish  boy  was  stationed  with  a  relay  of  fresh  horses,  equal  in 
strength  and  blood  and  spirit  to  those  which  had  so  nobly  borne  them  hitherward ;  and 
mounting  upon  these  without  a  moment's  pause,  they  again  dashed  into  a  wild  wood 
road — already  twenty  miles  at  least  from  the  park  walls  of  Woolverton,  and  farther  yet 
from  the  head-quarters  of  the  Ironsides.  Long  before  midnight,  as  Sherlock  predicted, 
it  began  to  rain ;  and  in  less  than  an  hour  from  the  commencement  of  the  storm,  it 
waxed  into  as  wild  a  gale  as  ever  ushered  in  the  winter  equinox,  with  heavy  rain  and 
sleet,  and  raving  gusts  of  wind,  and  ever  and  anon  a  crashing  peal  of  thunder — yet 
they  paused  not,  nor  slacked  their  long  hard  gallop,  for  liberty  and  life  were  on  their 
speed — and  they  were  not  the  men  to  lose  them  by  any  lack  of  hardihood  or  daring. 

4* 


82  MARMADTTKE     WYVILJ 

' 

CHAPTER    XVII. 

ABOVE  six  months  had  passed  after  the  flight  of  Wyvil,  yet  had  no  tidings  of  his 
safety  arrived  to  cheer  the  gentle  heart  of  Alice ;  for  it  was  autumn  still,  when  he 
effected  his  escape  from  Woolverton  ;  and  now  winter  was  over,  and  the  earlier  months 
of  spring-time  ;  and  the  young  days  of  June  were  scattering  their  sweets  over  the  smi- 
ling earth.  But  it  was  on  a  different  scene  from  any  yet  described,  and  in  a  distant 
country,  that  the  sun,  verging  fast  toward  the  west,  was  pouring  his  soft  light,  when  the 
events  occurred  wherewith  we  purpose  to  resume  our  narrative. 

It  was  a  wild  and  broken  country,  covered  in  many  parts  with  heavy  wood  and 
tangled  thickets,  full  of  ravines,  and  intersected  by  a  number  of  small  streams  and  rivu- 
lets, and  altogether  as  unlike  the  environs  of  a  great  city  as  can  well  be  imagined ;  yet 
it  was  in  the  very  heart  of  France,  scarcely  ten  leagues  from  the  metropolis,  lying 
between  Corbeil  upon  the  Seine,  and  the  small  town  of  Villeneuve,  yet  nearer  to  the 
gates  of  Paris.  Among  the  defiles,  then  it  was,  which  intersected  at  that  day  the  forest 
land  that  covered  so  much  of  that  part  of  France,  and  at  an  advanced  hour  of  the  even- 
ing, that  a  small  band  of  horsemen  were  advancing  slowly  and  with  much  caution,  as 
if  they  had  been  almost  in  the  face  of  an  enemy.  They  were  not  above  ten  in  number, 
arid  consisted,  as  might  be  seen  at  a  glance,  of  two  gentlemen  with  their  train  of  armed 
attendants  ;  yet  there  was  something  in  the  style  of  their  accoutrements  and  harness 
which  showed  that  they  were  either  actually  engaged  in  some  military  service,  or  at 
least  were  prepared  for  some  unusual  danger ;  for  although  those  were  times  wherein 
no  gentleman  went  forth  unarmed,  or  without  soldierlike  retainers,  still  it  was  quite 
unusual  for  either  men  or  masters  to  wear  defensive  armor,  unless  in  actual  warfare. 
The  leaders  of  the  party,  who  rode  some  two  or  three  horses'  lengths  in  front  of  their 
followers,  were  both  young  men,  and  eminently  handsome  ;  but  as  different  as  it  is 
possible  to  conceive  in  the  style  of  their  beauty.  He  who  rode  to  the  right  was  clad  in 
a  complete  suit  of  bright  steel — an  open  helmet  with  a  tall  plume  of  ostrich  feathers 
covered  his  head,  and  cast  a  darker  shade  over  a  face,  the  hues  of  which  were  naturally 
of  the  darkest  that  are  ever  seen  in  Europeans — his  eyes  were  of  a  quick  and  lustrous 
black,  full  of  enthusiastic  life  and  rapid  energy  ;  his  features  manly  and  decided,  yet  at 
the  same  time  delicately  shaped  and  singularly  handsome ;  a  small  coal-black  mustache 
penciled  his  short-curved  upper  lip,  and  a  profusion  of  black  curls  fell  down  beneath 
the  rim  of  his  bright  morion,  over  the  gorget  and  cuirass  which  armed  his  body.  Taslets 
of  steel  were  on  his  thighs,  and  his  legs,  from  the  knee  downward,  were  protected  by 
stout  boots  of  polished  leather,  bedecked  with  the  gilt  spurs  of  knighthood  ;  a  long 
straight  broadsword  suspended  from  a  scarf  of  white  silk  fringed  with  gold,  and  pistols 
of  two  feet  in  length,  completed  the  accoutrements  of  the  young  chevalier.  His  com- 
rade, though  he  was  mounted  on  a  noble  charger,  and  though  he  wore  both  sword  and 
pistols,  was  less  elaborately  harnessed  ;  for  in  place  of  a  helmet,  he  had  a  hat  of  black 
velvet  with  a  band  of  white  feathers  running  around  it,  a  mode  which  was  at  that  time 
in  its  first  commencement,  and  deemed  the  very  point  device  of  military  foppery.  A 
coat  of  maroon-colored  velvet,  with  cuirass  above  it,  crossed  by  a  white  scarf  like  his 
friend's,  breeches  and  gauntlets  of  white  chamois  leather,  and  polished  riding  boots, 
were  the  nearest  of  anything  he  wore  to  military  decoration.  Something  too  of  the 
same  distinction,  which  would  not  but  be  noticed  in  the  accoutrements  of  the  leaders, 
was  perceptible  in  those  of  the  retainers ;  for  while  the  four  stout  able-bodied  men, 
who  followed  the  last-mentioned  rider,  were  evidently  nothing  more  than  the  ordinary 
armed  servants  of  the  day,  the  others  were  unquestionably  regular  troops,  and  as  such 
were  equipped  with  the  heaviest  horse-armor  of  the  day.  It  was  not  in  their  dress, 
however,  nor  in  the  style  of  their  arms,  that  the  principal  difference  between  the  party 
consisted  ;  for  while  the  soldier's  hair  and  eyes  and  whole  complexion  were  extraordi- 
narily dark,  his  comrade  was  distinguished  by  all  the  attributes  of  English  beauty,  fair 
skin  and  rich  brown  locks,  and — but  it  needs  not  to  describe  him  further,  for  no  one 


OR,     THE     MAID'S     REVENGE.  83 

who  had  ever  seen  him,  could  have  failed  to  discover  in  the  gay  cavaliet  of  France,  the 
person  of  the  English  Wyvil. 

"  Well,  Captain  Wyvil,"  said  the  dark-featured  soldier,  turning  toward  his  companion, 
after  a  long  pause  in  their  conversation ;  "  here  are  we  now,  within  a  scant  league  of 
Villeneuve  St.  George ;  and  night  fast  drawing  on,  and  not  a  sign  can  we  discover,  not 
a  word  can  we  learn  from  any  one  of  this  advance,  so  loudly  bruited  of  Monsieur  de 
Lorraine.  I  begin  shrewdly  to  suspect  those  intercepted  letters  were  but  a  ruse  of  the 
princes  to  force  Turenne  to  raise  the  leaguer  of  Etampis  !  I  am  in  doubt  how  to  pro. 
ceed,  for  we  have  reconnoitered  all  the  country  hither,  and  the  marechal's  orders  were 
distinct  that  we  should  not  cross  the  Hyere  ;  and  here  it  is,  just  in  the  hollow  way 
beyond  that  wooded  hill.  There,  you  can  see  its  waters  glittering  in  the  sunshine  three 
miles  or  so  to  the  eastward  by  the  top  of  yon  ash-tree." 

"  I  scarce  know  how  to  counsel  you,  Bellechassaigne,"  replied  the  other,  "  not  know- 
ing how  the  country  lies,  nor  what  hamlets  or  farm-houses  are  scattered  through  this 
forest.  It  will  not  do,  however,  to  fail  back  on  the  marechal,  without  some  sure  intel- 
ligence. If  we  can  go  so  far  onward,  without  incurring  much  risk  of  discovery,  as  to 
get  a  view  from  yon  hill-top,  I  think  we  ought  to  do  so.  For  thence  we  shall  be  enabled 
to  overlook  Villeneuve,  and  see,  if  nothing  more,  whether  the  troops  of  Lorraine  have 
occupied  that  town  in  force. 

"  Forward,  then,  forward ;"  cried  the  other  gayly.  "  There  is  some  peril  in  it  certainly, 
for  if  monsieur  is  in  Villeneuve  at  all,  be  sure  he  has  outposts  on  this  side  the  river ; 
the  rather  that  the  cross-road  from  Brie-conte-Robert  and  Grosbois  intersects  there  with 
this  by  which  we  are  advancing.  But  where  the  devil  would  the  fun  be  in  warfare, 
any  more  than  in  dull  peace,  if  there  were  not  a  spice  of  danger  in  it  ?  So  forward,  I 
say,  forward !" 

"Let  it  be  quickly  then,"  said  Marmaduke  ;  "for  as  you  said  but  now  it  is  fast 
waxing  late,  and,  if  we  are  to  have  some  fighting,  we  may  as  well  have  light  to  do  it 
by  ;  and  if  not,  then  it  behooves  us  to  look  out  for  a  snug  place  to  bivouac,  before  it 
grows  too  dark  to  choose  one." 

"  Forward,  then,  trot !"  cried  Bellechassaigne,  raising  his  voice,  so  that  its  tones  could 
reach  the  ears  of  the  men  behind,  striking  his  charger  at  the  same  time  with  the  spear  ; 
"  and  now  I  think  of  it,"  he  aded,  "  it  were  as  well  to  be  upon  our  guard — unsling 
your  carbines,  look  to  your  matches,  and  be  ready !" 

As  the  last  order  issued  from  his  lips,  they  had  reached  the  bottom  of  the  small  sandy 
hollow — the  road  bordered  on  either  hand  by  a  thick  growth  of  coppice,  here  and  there 
a  tall  tree  interspersed,  and  winding  up  a  large  ascent  in  front  of  them  to  the  summit  of 
the  woody  hill,  when  they  expected  to  overlook  the  level  country  toward  the  junction 
of  the  Seine  and  Marne,  in  which  direction  it  was  reported  that  the  Prince  of  Lorraine 
was  advancing.  The  command  was  obeyed  promptly,  and  with  their  musketoons 
thrown  forward,  and  eye,  ear,  heart  on  the  alert,  the  troopers  trotted  rapidly  up  the  rough 
stony  hill — and  now  they  were  within  a  hundred  yards  of  the  summit,  and  a  few  seconds 
more  would  have  placed  them  on  the  verge,  in  full  view  of  whatever  there  might  be 
beyond  its  woody  screen — when  suddenly  a  faint  long  note,  as  of  a  trumpet  keenly 
winded,  but  far  distant,  came  down  the  summer  wind  :  the  quick  ear  of  Bellechassaigne 
caught  it  upon  the  instant. 

"  Halt !"  he  cried — "Halt!  we  are  upon  them,  Wyvil." 

"  Let  us  two  then  dismount,"  returned  the  Englishman,  leaping  to  the  ground  as  he 
.spoke ;  "  we  may  creep  on  under  the  covert  of  those  fir-trees  and  reconnoitre  them  with 
ease.  Here,"  he  continued,  turning  to  his  servants — "  here,  Adam,  hold  my  charger — 
and  see  you  stir  not  without  orders — best  doff  your  helmet,  Bellechassaigne,  its  glitter 
would  betray  us  if  a  stray  sunbeam  should  flash  upon  it." 

The  gay  young  Frenchman  smiled  and  vaulted  lightly  from  his  charger,  unclasped 
the  chin-strap  of  his  morion,  and  passed  it  to  the  nearest  of  his  troopers ;  then  drawing 
out  his  pistols  from  the  holsters,  he  waved  his  hand  to  Wyvil,  and  they  advanced  to. 
gether  with  stealthy  steps,  till  they  had  reached  the  brow  of  the  hill ;  when  they  crept 


64  MARMADtTKE 

into  the  c6vert  to  the  right  hand  of  the  road,  where  a  thick  tuft  of  stunted  fir-trees 
afforded  a  sure  hiding-place,  and  were  lost  to  the  eyes  of  their  followers.  Scarce  had 
they  made  three  steps  into  the  shadow,  before  a  vast  and  glorious  landscape  was  spread 
out  like  a  map  before  them ;  a  wide  rich  champagne,  covered  with  the  tall  crops  of 
waving  grain  and  fertile  pastures,  checkered  with  woods  and  orchards,  and  dotted  with 
a  thousand  hamlets — the  broad  bright  courses  of  the  Seine  and  Marne  rolling  in  silver 
labyrinths  among  the  verdure,  and  the  blue  domes  and  gothic  spires  of  the  metropolis 
just  seen  through  the  thin  haze  which  curtained  the  horizon.  Nearer,  and  in  the  fore- 
ground as  it  were  of  this  grand  picture,  lay  the  small  town  of  Villeneuve  beyond  the 
river  Hyere,  which  wound — now  seen,  now  lost  among  the  glades  of  the  thick  wood 
that  clothed  the  northern  slope  of  the  height  whereon  they  stood,  down  to  the  margin 
of  the  stream ;  and  the  broad  yellow  road  by  which  they  had  advanced,  receded  in  long 
clear  perspective  downward  to  the  stone  bridge  and  the  barriers  of  the  town. 

It  must  not  be  supposed,  however,  that  the  two  partisans  had  any  leisure  to  survey 
the  scene,  or  even  to  consider  whether  the  landscape  in  itself  was  beautiful  or  not,  so 
absolutely  were  their  senses  occupied  in  reconnoitering  its  military  points,  and  judging 
of  its  occupation  by  the  enemy.  Nor  was  it  very  difficult  to  form  a  judgment  on  this 
point;  for  at  the  first  glance  they  might  see  a  hostile  standard  hoisted  upon  the  bridge, 
and  a  small  guard  of  horse  in  foreign  uniforms  on  duty  at  the  gate  ;  while  in  three  differ- 
ent spots  of  the  more  distant  champagne,  they  could  distinguish  clearly  three  large  and 
powerful  divisions,  evidently  each  in  communication  with  the  others,  marching  as  fast 
as  possible  on  Villeneuve. 

"  Now,"  exclaimed  Bellechassaigne — "  now  we  may  go  our  ways  as  hard  as  we  can 
gallop,  and  tell  Turenne  what  we  have  seen — for  here  are  the  advanced  guard  of  the 
Lorrainer's  horse  on  the  Hyere  already ;  and  certainly  the  rearmost  of  those  three  in- 
fantry divisions  will.be  within  the  town  before  to-morrow  noon — the  marechal  must 
march  right  rapidly  if  he  means  to  fight  monsieur  before  he  can  cross  the  Seine.  So 
let  us  get  to  horse  good  friend,  and  make  the  best  of  our  way  back  to  Corbeil — we  will 
halt  for  an  hour  or  two  at  the  little  village  where  we  breakfasted,  and  we  can  join  the 
marechal  before  daybreak." 

"  Hold  !  hold  a  moment,"  returned  Wyvil — "  one  moment,  Bellechassaigne  ;  look 
down  into  the  valley  yonder — there  in  that  hollow  by  the  holly  bushes — just  where  the 
other  road  comes  in,  the  cross-road  from  Grosbois,  about  which  you  were  speaking.  Is 
it  not  the  same  ?" 

"  Yes !  yes !  but  what  of  that  ?"  asked  the  young  officer.  "  Ha !  by  my  soul !"  he 
added,  as  he  turned  his  eyes  to  the  spot  indicated  by  his  comrade,  "  they  are  in  ambush 
there — two — four — six — now  by  St.  Dennis,  there  are  a  score  of  troopers  in  the  thicket 
— what  in  the  devil's  name  can  they  be  waiting  for  ?" 

Just  as  he  spoke,  however,  his  question  was  answered  by  the  appearance  of  a  mounted 
servant  or  avant  courier,  dressed  in  a  livery  of  dark  blue  cloth,  splendidly  laced  with 
gold,  who  wheeled  into  the  main  causeway,  and  turning  his  horse  toward  the  hill 
whereon  the  partisans  were  standing,  came  that  way  very  rapidly  without  perceiving 
the  soldiers  who  were  lying  in  the  thicket.  A  moment  or  two  afterwards  one  of  the 
heavy  coaches  of  the  day,  drawn  by  six  horses  with  postillions  dressed  in  the  same  hand- 
some livery  as  the  courier,  came  lumbering  round  the  corner  of  the  wood,  two  stout 
armed  servants  following ;  one  of  whom  led  a  charger,  equipped  with  demipique  and 
holsters  and  the  rich  housings  of  a  general  officer  of  the  king's  party.  Scarcely  had 
the  last  servant  come  fiilly  into  sight,  before  the  quick  flash  of  a  carbine  streamed  out 
of  the  dark  evergreens ;  and  before  the  sound  of  the  report  was  borne  to  the  ears  of  the 
young  soldiers,  the  courier,  horse  and  man,  fell  headlong  to  the  ground,  rolling  over  and 
over  among  the  clouds  of  dust  which  surged  up  from  the  sandy  road  and  for  a  moment 
cut  off  all  view  of  the  scene  of  action.  The  rattle  of  a  volley,  however,  which  instantly 
succeeded,  showed  that  the  cowardly  murder  which  they  had  seen  committed  was  but 
the  prelude  to  worse  outrage.  As  quick  as  lightning  Marmaduke,  when  he  saw  the  flash 
and  almost  before  he  could  perceive  its  result,  turned  round  and  rushed  toward  the 


OR,    THE    MAID'S    REVENGE*  85 

horses,  waving  as  he  did  so  to  his  men  to  come  forward  ;  and  they,  catching  his  signal 
on  the  instant,  came  up  so  promptly  that  he  was  in  his  saddle  before  Bellechassaigne 
overtook  him,  though  he  had  followed  him  in  hot  anxiety,  fearing  some  deed  of  rashness 
on  his  pail,  the  moment  he  observed  his  movements. 

"Are  you  mad,  Wyvil  ?"  he  exclaimed — "  are  you  mad  ?  that  you  think  of  charging 
twenty  armed  troopers  with  a  handful  such  as  ours — and  that  too,  when  the  twenty  will 
be  supported  within  ten  minutes  by  a  hundred — and  above  all,  for  a  matter  that  con- 
cerns us  nothing  ?  By  heavens  !  man,  we  shall  be  cut  to  pieces  or  made  prisoners  in 
five  minutes ;  and  what  is  worse  than  that,  Turenne  will  get  no  tidings  of  the  advance 
of  these  Lorrainers.  Tete  dieu !  it's  well  he  sent  me  with  you,  as  a  curb  on  your 
impetuous  valor." 

"  By  the  Lord  !  but  it  does  concern  us,  Bellechassaigne,"  answered  Wyvil  hastily ; 
"  did  you  not  see  the  housings  of  the  charger  ?  There  is  a  general  officer  of  the  king's 
there — and  I  doubt  nothing  it  is  Sir  Henry  Oswold,  whom  Monsieur  de  Turenne  and 
our  good  Duke  of  York  are  hourly  expecting  from  Sedan,  by  Chalons  and  Collouniers. 
I  will  die  with  my  men  or  rescue  him.  Bear  you  the  tidings  to  Turenne.  Forward, 
men,  gallop !"  and,  with  the  word,  he  dashed  his  spurs  into  his  horse's  side,  shook  off 
Bellechassaigne's  grasp  which  was  upon  his  rein,  and  followed  by  his  servants,  dashed 
over  the  brow  of  the  hill,  and  thundered  down  its  other  slope  at  a  pace  which  made 
itself  audible  to  the  ears  of  his  comrade,  for  a  moment  at  least  after  he  had  lost  sight 
of  him.  The  trooper  shook  his  head,  and  muttered  a  few  words  very  bitterly  ;  but  he 
too  mounted,  as  his  horse  was  led  up  by  his  soldiers,  and  rode  through  with  much  cau- 
tion and  at  a  slow  pace,  to  the  brow  beyond  which  Wyvil  had  just  disappeared.  But 
that  impetuous  and  daring  youth  was  plunged  already  into  the  midst  of  action,  before 
his  cooler.headed,  though  no  less  brave  companion,  had  gained  a  fair  view  of  his  pre- 
cipitate fool-hardy  onset. 

The  spot  at  which  the  conflict  had  taken  place  between  the  servants  and  the  am- 
bushed force  of  the  Lorrainers,  was  a  small  hollow  way  that  made  a  deep  indenture  in 
the  side  of  the  long  sloping  hill,  about  one-fourth  of  the  way  between  the  summit  and 
the  town  ;  and  was  so  situated,  that  although  it  was  completely  overlooked  by  any 
person  standing  on  the  brow,  it  could  not  be  perceived  at  all  by  one  at  the  base  of  the 
ascent ;  so  that,  as  Marmaduke  saw  at  a  glance,  there  was  no  fear  of  any  reinforcement 
coming  up  from  the  bridge,  unless  it  should  be  called  for  by  some  fugitive  from  the 
scene  of  action,  and  that  in  this  case  many  minutes  must  elapse  before  it  could  arrive 
upon  the  ground.    All  this  he  had  considered  before  he  passed  the  brow  of  the  hill  with 
his  men,  so  that  he  was  completely  free,  his  plan  being  matured  already,  to  take  note 
of  everything — the  most  minute  that  was  occurring,  which  might  tend  to  the  defeat  or 
success  of  his  intended  exploit.     The  smoke  and  dust  which  had  obscured  the  scene, 
as  he  had  looked  upon  it  last,  had  drifted  quite  away,  so  that  nothing  was  now  hidden 
from  him,  which  it  was  in  the  least  important  for  him  to  know  or  understand.     He 
could  see,  therefore,  that  the  firing  had  not  apparently  excited  any  surprise  or  interest 
in  the  guard  at  the  gates  ;  from  which  he  judged  that  the  whole  matter  had  been  care- 
fully devised  beforehand,  and  the  attack  made  in  numbers  so  overwhelming  as  must,  in 
the  opinion  of  the  plotters,  insure  success  beyond  the  possibility  of  question.     And  it 
had  been  so  far  successful ;  for  midway  the  steep  descent,  between  the  summit  and  the 
hollow  way,  lay  the  horse  of  the  courier,  where  it  had  fallen  by  the  first  shot,  quite  dead 
and  motionless  ;  while  the  man,  having  extricated  himself  from  the  carcase,  which  had 
fallen  on  him,  sat  by  the  road-side  with  his  head  leaning  on  his  hand,  grievously  wounded. 
Of  the  two  other  servants,  one  was  stretched  beside  the  chariot-wheel  motionless  and 
lifeless,  with  the  sword  which  he  had  just  drawn  grasped  firmly  in  his  cold  right  hand — 
his  fellow  leaning  against  the  vehicle,  and  striving  fruitlessly  to  stanch  the  blood  which 
was  welling  from  his  side  in  torrents  ;  two  of  the  horses  which  had  drawn  the  carriage 
had  fallen,  with  their  postillions,  at  the  volley,  and  the  rest,  their  traces  having  been 
cut  at  the  first  charge  of  the  Lorrainers,  were  in  the  hands  of  the  rude  victors.     Resist- 
ance, therefore,  was  completely  at  an  end ;  for  just  as  Wyvil  cast  his  eyes  upon  the 


86  MARMADtTEE 

scene,  he  saw  a  tall  and  noble-looking  man  who  had  sprung  sword  in  hand  from  the 
carriage,  and  done  some  execution  in  the  ranks  of  his  opponents,  mastered,  disarmed, 
and  bound  by  some  of  the  ruffians ;  while  others  were  engaged  in  ransacking  the  car- 
riage, cutting  loose  the  trunks  which  were  fixed  to  it,  and  even  tearing  out  the  curtains 
of  rich  silk  which  bedecked  its  windows.  The  sight,  however,  which  most  inflamed 
the  fiery  blood  of  Wyvil,  was  a  tall  elegant-looking  girl,  whom,  by  the  splendor  of  her 
dress  he  could  discover,  even  at  that  distance,  to  be  a  personage  of  consequence  and 
rank,  struggling  madly  in  the  grasp  of  two  or  three  of  the  licentious  soldiers,  who  seemed 
disposed  to  treat  her  with  indignity  and  insult. 

"  Now,  my  men,"  he  exclaimed,  as  he  drew  his  sword  from  the  scabbard,  "  out  with 
your  carbines,  and  when  I  bid  you  halt,  pour  in  your  fire — every  one  pick  his  man, 
and  see  you  throw  not  a  shot  away — then  draw  and  charge  upon  the  gallop :"  and  with 
the  word,  he  dashed  away  down  the  steep  hill  at  the  top  of  his  horse's  speed.  Down 
they  came  ;  down !  all  abreast,  each  with  his  carbine  cocked,  and  pressed  against  his 
side.  "  Halt !"  and  the  well-trained  chargers  stood  motionless  as  marble  statues,  and 
the  quick  firelocks  poured  forth  their  streams  of  glancing  fire,  Wyvil  accompanying  the 
volley  with  a  pistol  shot — and  four  of  the  marauders,  who,  taken  somewhat  by  surprise, 
were  mounting  in  hot  haste  and  mustering  to  meet  the  onset,  fell,  either  killed  outright, 
or  wounded  mortally ;  their  startled  horses  plunging  ungovernably  through  the  field,  and 
terribly  increasing  the  confusion,  as  they  yerked  to  and  fro  with  their  armed  heels, 
snorting  with  rage  and  terror. 

"  Charge  !"  shouted  Marmaduke,  standing  up  in  his  stirrups,  and  hurling  the  long- 
barrelled  pistol  which  he  had  just  discharged,  full  into  the  face  of  a  subaltern  officer, 
who  was  in  the  act  of  lunging  at  him  with  his  rapier — "  Charge  !  and  strike  home  ! 
down  with  the  villains  !"  the  ponderous  weapon  hurtled  through  the  air,  and  full 
between  the  eyes,  under  the  peak  of  his  steel  morion,  smote  the  Lorrainer!  for  an 
instant  he  reeled  blindly  in  his  stirrups,  then  pitched  headforemost  to  the  earth,  and  lay 
there  stunned,  and  to  all  appearance  lifeless,  while  Wyvil's  bay  horse,  forced  by  the 
keen  spur  of  the  rider,  bounded  across  his  prostrate  body.  One  sweep  from  left  to  right 
of  his  long  broadsword,  and  one  of  the  stout  men,  who  held  the  lady,  staggered  back 
with  a  deep  gash  in  his  brow,  the  blood  streaming  into  his  eyes,  and  leaving  him  blind 
for  the  moment  and  quite  senseless.  His  men  were  close  behind  him,  and  for  a  little 
while  it  seemed  that  the  bold  exploit  was  successful ;  so  greatly  had  the  suddenness 
and  vigor  of  the  onset  paralyzed  and  subdued  the  courage  of  the  fierce  marauders. 
But  when  they  saw  the  small  force  of  the  party  that  had  charged  and  half  defeated 
them  already,  they  rallied,  and  stood  to  their  arms  stubbornly ;  the  fellows  who  had 
been  engaged  in  rifling  the  baggage,  leaping  down  from  the  roof  of  the  carriage  sword 
in  hand,  and  the  troopers  who  were  yet  mounted,  bearing  down  in  a  body  on  their 
rash  assailants.  A  pistol  shot  at  this  critical  time,  while  Marmaduke  was  cheering 
on  his  men  to  a  fresh  charge,  took  effect  in  his  charger's  breast,  that  he  stumbled, 
sank  on  his  knees,  and  despite  all  the  efforts  of  the  cavalier  rolled  over  on  his 
breast ;  at  the  same  instant  a  heavy  sword  fell  like  a  thunderbolt  upon  his  hat  and 
cut  through  to  the  hair ;  but  turning  flatwise  in  the  hand  of  him  who  wielded  it,  the 
blade  inflicted  no  wound,  though  it  had  nearly  beaten  him  to  the  earth.  But  all  un- 
daunted he  sprang  to  his  feet  again,  and  repaid  the  blow  by  a  straight  thrust  that  stag- 
gered his  antagonist,  although  his  buff-coat  saved  him  from  a  wound.  Still  it  was  evi- 
dently hopeless ;  and,  though  he  fought  on  desperately,  striking  down  trooper  after 
trooper,  and  though  his  servants  backed  him  as  if  they  emulated  his  example,  they  were 
so  thoroughly  hemmed  in,  and  overdone  by  odds,  and  all  of  them  now  wounded,  that 
it  was  too  apparent,  even  to  the  young  soldier,  that  he  had  but  a  choice  between  death 
and  surrender — when  suddenly  a  clear  high  voice,  heard  above  all  the  din,  like  the 
blast  of  a  silver  trumpet,  struck  his  ear  with  a  note  of  joyous  tidings. 

"  France!  France  !  St.  Dennis !  Bellechassaigne  for  France !"  and  with  that  far-famed 
battle  cry  the  daring  partisan  drove  into  the  melee,  sheathed  in  impenetrable  steel,  his 
horse  curveting  and  bounding,  so  that  each  downright  blow  fell  with  redoubled  force — 
three  of  bis  men-at-arms  cutting  their  way  by  dint  of  mighty  prowess  after  him. 


OR,     THE    MAID'S     REVENGE*  87 

"  Stand  to  it— 3tand  to  it — my  men,"  he  shouted,  so  that  the  enemy  might  hear  him. 
"  Stand  to  it,  Wyvil,  cheerily — help  is  at  hand — strike  out — Seguin  is  close  behind  with 
thirteen  hundred  horse."  Already  daunted  by  the  fresh  charge,  the  Lorrainers,  the 
moment  that  they  heard  his  words,  betook  themselves  to  flight,  throwing  away  their 
arms  and  leaving  dead  and  wounded  to  the  kind  mercy  of  the  victors.  While,  to  aug- 
ment their  terror  and  confusion,  Bellechassaigne  ordered  his  men,  who  had  been  forced 
to  charge  with  their  carbines  loaded  for  fear  of  injuring  their  friends  in  the  melee,  to 
give  their  fire  and  pursue.  "Meantime,"  he  called  to  Wyvil,  "get  these  good  people 
to  horse  straightway — the  lady  must  ride  too,  for  we  shall  be  pursued  ere  we  can  right 
the  carriage.  I  go  to  drive  these  dogs  into  the  river  and  terrify  them  so  far  as  I  can :" 
and  without  further  parley  he  drove  his  spurs  into  his  war-horse,  and  in  a  minute  was  in 
advance  of  all  his  men,  hewing  down,  riding  over,  and  unmercifully  trampling  under 
foot  the  scattered  and  disorganized  marauders.  Wyvil,  who  had  been  hurt  in  several 
places  before  the  timely  succor  had  arrived,  and  who  was  beginning  to  feel  faint  from 
the  loss  of  blood,  gazed  round  him  with  a  slightly  vacant  air,  as  though  he  scarcely 
comprehended  what  was  said  to  him ;  but  at  that  moment  the  aged  officer  whose  rescue 
he  had  achieved  so  gallantly,  came  forward  to  address  him,  saying,  "  Your  friend  is 
quite  right,  sir — we  have  no  time  for  anything,  not  even  for  the  thanks  which  you  have 
won  so.  nobly  ;  for  doubtless  they  will  sally  from  the  town  forthwith.  But,  good  God !" 
he  continued,  seeing  the  young  man  stagger  and  turning  pale — "  I  fear  you  are  hurt 
seriously!"  "No!  no!  not  seriously,"  Marmaduke  answered  instantly;  "but  I  am 
bleeding  fast,  and  I  must  get  these  cuts  bound  up  before  I  can  sit  on  horseback — and 
so  I  fear  must  these  poor  fellows,  who  all  of  them  are  more  or  less  hurt." 

"  Oh,  if  that  be  the  worst,  we  will  soon  set  all  that  in  order.  Here,  Isabella,"  and 
he  turned  toward  his  daughter  as  he  spoke,  who  stood  all  terrified  and  trembling  in  the 
midst  of  the  carnage,  scarce  conscious  if  she  were  indeed  preserved  from  outrage — 
"  here,  Isabella,  see  if  you  cannot  stanch  the  wounds  of  this  young  gentleman  who  has 
so  gallantly  incurred  them  for  your  sake.  Take  my  scarf,  girl,  he  added,  unbuckling 
his  baldric  of  white  taffeta,  and  bind  his  left  arm  tightly — that  is  the  worst  cut,  I  sus- 
pect. Meanwhile,  these  worthy  fellows  must  look  to  one  another,  while  I  essay  to  catch 
these  frightened  horses,  and  to  prepare  a  pillion  whereon  you  may  ride  until  we  can 
procure  some  suitable  conveyance." 

"  We  shall  do  well  enough  your  honour,"  replied  the  man  whom  Wyvil  had  called 
Adam,  and  who  was  hurrying  up,  having  a  handkerchief  bound  tight  about  his  temples, 
to  assist  his  master ;  "  we  none  of  us  be  hurt  so  badly,  but  what  we  could  ride  fifty 
miles  if  it  were  needed  !" 

"  Well  said,  my  hearty  fellow,"  returned  the  officer  in  English,  for  hitherto  the  whole 
conversation  had  been  carried  on  in  the  French  language ;  "  we  are  all  English  here  I 
fancy,  so  we  had  just  as  well  talk  in  our  mother  tongue  as  in  their  cursed  jargon,  which 
is  not  fit  for  anything  but  their  court-apes  and  popinjays.  Come  hither  quick  !  the  lady 
will  attend  your  master  better  by  half  than  you  can — catch  yon  gray  charger  by  the  rein 
that  plunges  there  so  wildly — he  is  the  best  of  the  lot,  and  belonged  to  that  officer  your 
master  felled  so  neatly — and  as  that  bay  horse  which  he  rode  will  carry  him  no  more, 
he  must  be  mounted  as  best  may  be  for  the  moment.  Cleverly  done !  soh !  soh  I 
now  pick  that  pistol  up  and  take  its  fellow  from  the  dead  horse's  holster — they  are  old 
friends  I  warrant  them — so  now  he  is  equipped  and  mounted — now  what's  thy  name 
good  fellow  ?" 

"Adam — sir  Henry — Adam  Brandon,"  the  man  answered;  "and  I  know  your 
worship  too !  sir  Henry — I  was  not  far  from  you  at  Edgehill — and  I  saw  you — " 

"  Well,  never  mind  that  now,"  exclaimed  the  officer,  "  but  lift  up  that  poor  fellow 
that  lies  there  bleeding  by  the  wheel ;"  pointing  to  the  servant  who  had  been  standing 
up,  though  sadly  wounded,  when  Marmaduke  arrived  upon  the  field. 

"Is  he  dead,  Adam?" 

"  Ay  is  he,  poor  lad,"  answered  the  servitor,  letting  the  body  down—"  ay  is  he- 
dead  as  a  door-nail !" 


68  MARMADtTKE 

"  Poor  fellow!'"  cried  the  other  in  a  thick  husky  voice,  while  a  tear  twinkled  in  his 
eye — "  poor  Lauriston,  to  fall  in  such  a  paltry  brawl,  after  so  often — well,  well,  we've 
no  time  for  wailing :  so  Anthony,  I'm  glad  to  see  thee  safe,"  as  the  third  postillion  who 
had  escaped  all  but  some  trifling  bruises,  extricated  himself  from  the  fallen  horses ;  "  thou 
art  the  only  one  left  whole,  of  six  as  faithful  fellows — " 

"  No,  no,  sir  Henry,"  the  lad  interrupted ;  "  old  Mathew  yonder"  and  he  pointed  to 
the  courier,  who  was  now  limping  down  the  hill,  "  has  got  off  free  I  believe." 

"  Catch  him  a  horse  then,  boy,  and  do  as  much  for  yourself;  we  must  be  stirring  pres- 
ently." While  he  had  been  thus  issuing  his  orders,  attending  to  and  talking  of  a  dozen 
different  matters,  the  veteran  had  arranged  a  sort  of  temporary  pillion  by  means  of  a 
cushion  from  the  carriage,  attached  to  the  cartle  and  crupper  of  his  demipique  by  two 
or  three  stout  silken  cords  which  had  festooned  the  curtains  of  the  vehicle ;  and  now 
giving  the  bridle  of  his  own  led  horse  to  Brandon,  who  was  already  holding  the  charger 
which  he  had  accoutred  with  Marmaduke's  own  war-saddle  and  housings,  he  strode  up 
to  the  spot  where  his  fair  child,  kneeling  among  the  dead  and  dying,  by  the  side  of  her 
young. preserver,  was  binding  up  his  wounds  with  all  the  tenderness  of  a  sweet  gentle, 
woman,  and  almost  all  the  skill  of  an  accomplished  surgeon. 

That  was  a  singular  and  striking  picture — the  evening  sun  pouring  a  flood  of  gorgeous 
light  over  the  bright  green  foliage  of  the  woodlands,  and*the  yellow  sand  of  the  road, 
which  was  contrasted  fearfully  by  the  broad  streaks  and  puddles  of  dark  gore  ;  the  bodies 
of  the  men  and  horses,  who  had  fallen,  all  grim  and  gashed  and  gory,  some  dead  already 
and  fast  growing  cold,  some  struggling  fruitlessly  and  groaning  in  their  great  agony, 
hopeless  of  any  succor  from  the  travellers  whom  they  had  but  now  so  brutally  assaulted 
— and  in  the  midst  of  this  wild  ghastly  medley,  the  noble  figure  and  superb  attire  of  the 
young  cavalier,  as  he  sat  on  a  little  knoll  by  the  wayside  with  that  soft  lovely  creature, 
so  sedulously  ministering  to  his  need — for  she  was  very  soft  indeed,  und  lovely.  It 
was  not  only  that  the  whole  contour  of  her  tall  finely-moulded  person  was  exquisitely 
beautiful,  combining  all  the  slender  graceful  symmetry  of  girlhood  with  voluptuous 
roundness  of  feminine  maturity — it  was  not  only  that  every  feature  of  her  speaking 
face  was  perfect  in  its  classic  outlines,  that  ail  the  coloring  was  rich  and  delicate  in  its 
harmonious  blending ;  but  that  there  was  an  air  of  inborn  nobleness  and  worth — an 
outflashing  of  intellect  and  soul  from  the  full  spiritual  eye — a  music  breathing  from  every 
dimple  of  the  smiling  mouth — a  character  and  mind  that  could  not,  by  the  most  casual 
observer,  be  confounded  with  aught  sensual  or  common  or  ignoble,  pervading  every 
varying  expression  of  her  lineaments — every  small  movement  of  her  easy  figure. 

Yet,  beautiful  as  Isabella  Oswald  was,  her  beauty  was  by  no  means  of  an  English 
style — her  hair,  which  was  of  an  extraordinary  length  and  volume,  was  perfectly  jet 
black  and  glossy  as  the  raven's  wings,  without  one  shade  of  gold  or  auburn  mingled 
with  their  dark  tints,  and  with  the  slightest  tendency  to  wave  or  curl  that  can  be  fancied ; 
and  there  was  something  oriental  in  the  mode  in  which  she  wore  it,  a  broad  and  mas- 
sive braid  plaited  in  many  strands,  sweeping  down  over  either  cheek  and  looped  behind 
the  small  and  beautifully  formed  ears,  that  suited  admirably  with  the  expression  of  her 
features,  and  the  rich  sunny  coloring — for  she  was  a  decided  and  even  dark  brunette — 
with  a  clear  olive  skin  through  which  the  mantling  blood  showed  like  the  ripe  blush  on 
the  sunny  side  of  a  soft  peach — black  eyes  that  flashed  at  times  as  if  they  had  been 
fraught  with  liquid  fire — and  at  times  melted  into  that  lovely  languor  that  is  so  seldom 
seen  except  in  climes  far  to  the  southward  of  her  native  land — and  a  mouth  exquisitely 
arched  and  tinged  with  the  most  burning  crimson.  It  was  on  such  a  face,  and  such  a 
form,  that  Marmaduke,  faint  from  the  loss  of  blood  and  dizzy  from  the  fierce  excitement 
of  the  struggle  in  which  he  had  been  so  severely  handled,  was  gazing  through  his  half- 
shut  lids,  scarce  conscious  of  what  had  happened ;  when,  all  the  arrangements  made 
for  their  departure,  Sir  Henry  drew  near  the  couple. 

"  How  fare  you,  sir — how  fare  you  now  ?"  he  asked,  in  his  hale,  hearty  tones. 

"Weil,  I  trust — well  by  this!  or  by  the  Lord  that  lives !  we  shall  be  taken  yet." 
While  he  was  in  the  act  of  speaking,  the  stunning  roar  of  a  heavy  cannon  came  crash- 


OH,     THE    MAID'S    REVENGE.  89 

ing  down  the  wind  from  the  direction  of  the  town,  and  instantly  the  clang  of  bells  and 
the  deep  roll  of  drums,  was  blent  with  the  alarum  of  the  shrill  bugles,  calling  the  garri- 
son to  arms. 

"  There  is  no  time  to  lose — no  time  !  To  horse,  at  once !  to  horse,  and  away  speedily!" 
and  catching  his  child  by  the  arm,  he  swung  her  to  the  crupper  of  his  war-horse,  and 
sprang  himself  into  the  saddle  with  the  agility  of  a  young  cavalier ;  while  Marmadukc 
rose  to  his  feet,  somewhat  unsteadily,  indeed ;  and,  rallying  his  disordered  senses,  by  a 
considerable  effort,  contrived,  by  the  assistance  of  his  servants,  to  mount  his  gray,  which 
had  been  furnished  with  the  equipments  of  his  fallen  charger.  Once  in  the  saddle,  he 
seemed  to  gain  fresh  vigor,  and  looking  with  a  lively  and  quick  air  about  him,  he  made 
some  brief  inquiries  concerning  what  had  passed  during  his  faintness,  and  issued  his 
commands  with  promptitude  and  spirit.  His  servants,  who  had  already  bound  up  each 
other's  hurts  as  well  as  time  and  their  scant  means  permitted,  together  with  the  courier 
and  postillion — who  alone,  of  Sir  Henry's  train,  had  escaped  scatheless — were  all  on  horse 
and  ready,  their  fire-arms  re-loaded  by  Wy  vil's  order,  to  start  upon  their  hasty  route  ; 
and  the  word  was  just  given  to  advance,  when  the  hard  clang  of  his  furious  gallop 
announced  the  partisan ;  and,  closely  followed  by  his  men-at-arms,  Bellechassaigne 
dashed  up  to  the  fugitives,  all  blood  from  plume  to  stirrup. 

"  Get  on,"  he  cried,  even  before  he  reached  them ;  "  get  on,  with  no  more  tarrying — 
put  the  hill-top  between  us  and  the  town,  and  we  shall  do  well  yet,  which  by  the  light 
of  heaven,  is  more  than  I  expected  or  even  hoped  for !" 

At  his  words,  fancying  some  urgent  peril  close  at  hand,  the  little  party  struck  instantly 
into  a  hard  trot,  which  rapidly  increasing  to  a  gallop,  soon  carried  them  beyond  the 
summit  of  the  slope,  and  far  into  the  vale  beyond  it,  before  Bellechassaigne  could  so 
far  overtake  them  as  to  make  himself  distinctly  understood.  But  as  they  reached  the 
bottom  of  the  hollow,  he  shouted  "  Halt !"  in  his  sonorous  tones,  so  clearly  that  all 
instantly  obeyed  the  order  ;  and,  as  they  did  so,  he  came  up  laughing  heartily,  and  in 
the  highest  spirits. 

"Here  is  no  need,"  he  said,  "to  blow  your  horses,  or  to  pound  that  fair  lady  to  a 
jelly,  by  riding  thus  over  these  hills  like  madmen.  These  coward  dogs  have  made 
report  that  all  Turenne's  light  horse  are  coming  down  on  them — and  as  I  chased  them 
so  far,  that  I  cut  down  my  last  man  on  the  pont  leves  as  they  raised  it,  and  did  not  fall 
back  till  they  began  firing  their  ordnance,  they  have  some  reason  to  believe  so.  Trust 
me  they  will  not  send  a  party  out,  even  to  reconnoitre,  for  an  hour  to  come  ;  and  as 
their  march  lies  not  in  this  direction,  for  they  design  to  cross  the  Seine  above  Charenton, 
we  have  but  to  keep  moving  steadily,  and  my  life  on  it,  we  shall  hear  nothing  more 
of  them.  So,  gently  Wyvil,  gently,  my  good  friend  !  and  as  for  you  my  pretty  lady, 
we  will  find  a  horse-litter  or  a  coach  of  some  kind,  wherein  you  may  journey  softer 
than  on  that  great  Bucephalus,  ere  we  have  ridden  half  an  hour."  And  reassured  by 
his  blunt  speech,  they  rode  deliberately  on  their  way,  but  without  losing  time ;  and  just 
as  it  was  growing  dark,  they  reached  the  hamlet  where  they  had  halted  in  the  morning, 
without  the  slightest  interruption. 


CHAPTER    XVIII. 

IT  was  a  small  and  scattered  group  of  houses  only,  along  the  margin  of  a  swift 
stream  which  turned  the  wheel  of  a  little  watermill,  in  the  midst  of  which  our  party 
drew  their  horses  up,  just  as  the  glorious  summer  moon  began  to  show  her  silver  orb 
above  the  tree-tops  on  the  hill,  although  the  richer  hues  of  sunset  were  still  alive  among 
the  cloudlets  along  the  western  verge  of  the  horizon — yet  small  although  it  was  and 
humble,  it  still  afforded  a  neat  comfortable  inn,  and  more — a  village  surgeon  of  skill 
sufficient  to  replace  the  rude  extemporaneous  dressings  which  had  been  applied  to  tbe 
hurts  of  the  sufferers,  by  bandages  and  ligatures  in  order  ;  and  of  sufficient  confidence 


in  his  own  skill  to  assure  all  his  patients  that,  within  two  or  three  days  at  the  farthest, 
they  would  be  fit  as  ever  for  any  martial  exercise.  Meanwhile,  Bellechaseaigne,  who 
had  come  off  entirely  unwounded,  was  all  alert,  and  actively  seeing  the  horses  fed  and 
properly  rubbed  down,  and  looking  to  the  preparation  of  a  vehicle,  wherein  the  lady 
might  accomplish  the  remainder  of  her  journey  more  pleasantly  than  she  could  do  on 
horseback.  The  last  was  not  arranged  without  some  difficulty ;  and  when  arranged, 
the  two-wheeled  cariole,  springless,  and  rough,  and  built  of  coarse  unpainted  timber, 
presented  a  wide  contrast  to  the  luxurious  well-appointed  carriage  in  which  she  had  set 
out  from  Coulonniers  that  morning.  Nevertheless,  by  piling  it  with  soldiers'  cloaks 
and  other  fleecy  textures  procured  from  the  inn,  it  was  at  last  made  tolerably  comfort- 
able ;  and,  when  two  strong  fleet  horses  had  been  harnessed  to  it  tandem  fashion,  to  be 
driven  from  the  saddle  by  Sir  Henry's  own  postillion,  it  promised  to  unite  the  qualities 
of  speed  and  safety,  in  a  higher  degree  than  could  have  been  expected  from  its  appear- 
ance. These  preparations  finished,  the  partisan  was  summoned  by  a  rosy-cheeked 
peasant  maiden,  to  partake  of  the  evening  meal ;  and  hastening  into  the  single  stone- 
floored  apartment,  which  was  at  once  parlor  and  kitchen  to  the  rustic  inn,  he  found  the 
board  spread  with  a  clear  though  somewhat  coarse  cloth,  on  which  were  laid  four  cov- 
ers, a  huge  piece  of  fresh  beef  boiled  almost  to  rags,  a  salad  and  a  loaf  of  black  rye- 
bread  ;  a  pewter  salt-cellar,  a  bowl  of  excellent  butter,  two  or  three  flasks  of  ordinary 
wine,  and  several  tall  drinking-glasses,  completing  the  apparatus  of.  the  humble  meal, 
which  found  however  no  fastidious  sharers  in  that  moment  of  haste  and  half-apprehended 
danger.  But  few  words  had  been  spoken,  as  may  be  well  conceived,  during  the  hot 
ride  hitherward ;  but  now  there  were  a  thousand  questions  to  be  asked  and  answered, 
that  soon  led  to  a  quick  and  animated  conversation,  and — so  true  it  is,  that  one  short 
hour  in  circumstances  of  excitement  and  romantic  situation,  will  produce  greater  inti- 
macy than  years  of  ordinary  life — ere  half  an  hour  had  passed,  they  were  all  talking 
unrestrainedly,  as  if  they  had  been  acquaintances  of  half  a  life  time's  standi  ng. 

"  Well,  be  that  as  it  may,"  exclaimed  Sir  Henry  after  the  board  was  cleared  and  sup- 
per ended,  in- reply  to  some  remarks  of  the  young  men  deprecating  any  praises  or  ex- 
pressions of  high  gratitude  ;  "  I  can  assure  you,  that  you  have  done  me  no  small  service  ; 
inasmuch  as  I  happen  to  be  aware  of  what  you  probably  know  nothing — that  Monsieur 
de  Lorranie,  had  I  been  so  unlucky  as  to  fall  into  his  hands,  would  in  all  probability, 
though  contrary  to  all  the  rules  of  honorable  warfare,  have  held  me  as  a  hostage  for  the 
safety  of  some  traitor  lord  or  other,  with  whom  his  eminence  of  Mazarin  has  in  con- 
templation to  deal  somewhat  harshly.  So  that,  had  you  not  acted  as  you  did,  with 
generosity  and  skill  and  courage  such  as  I  have  but  seldom  seen,  the  best  I  could  have 
looked  for  would  have  been  close  imprisonment,  and  the  worst,  six  paces  and  a  file  of 
musketoons,  or  it  might  be  the  block  and  headsman.  And  so,  sir,  as  I  have  told  your 
friend  before,"  he  continued,  addressing  Bellechassaigne,  who  had  just  risen  from  his 
seat  at  the  table,  "  it  is  to  you  that  I  owe  my  life  and  peradventure  my  child's  honor." 

"Now,  by  my  faith!"  returned  Bellechassaigne,  laughing  bluntly,  "you  are  most 
grievously  mistaken.  For  all  that  you  owe  me,  is  for  striving  strenuously  to  divert  this 
hot-headed  countryman  of  yours  from  riding  down  to  help  you — but  it  seems,  that  he 
knew  you  were  expected  by  his  grace  of  York ;  and  fancied,  when  he  saw  the  housings 
on  yeur  charger,  that  it  was  you  indeed  whom  the  Lorrainers  were  attacking :  or  what, 
I  believe,  is  the  truth,  he  had  some  secret  instinct  that  so  beautiful  a  lady  was  in  ques- 
tion as  mademoiselle  here — which  I  entreat  you  to  believe,  Sir  Henry,  had  I  known 
likewise,  I  would  have  been  beside  him  in  his  first  onset.  But,  as  it  is,  I  do  assure  you, 
that  you  have  nothing  for  which  to  be  grateful  to  me  ;  unless  it  be  for  doing  all  that  with 
me  lay  to  induce  this  fair  youth,  who  sets  so  simply  blushing  to  the  roots  of  his  hair,  to 
ride  off  toward  Corbeil  and  leave  you  to  your  fate." 

"  If  this  be  your  modesty  alone,  fair  sir,"  interrupted  Isabella,  "  you  carry  it  indeed 
to  a  great  length,  that  you  would  lead  us  to  believe  base  things  of  you,  whom  we  have 
seen  perform  such  feats  of  gallantry  and  daring.  When  Monsieur  de  Bellechassaigne 
wishes  to  be  believed,  in  slandering  himself,  it  must  be  before  those  who  have  not  seen 


OB,     THE     MAID'S     REVENGE.  91 

him  in  the  field  of  honor,  or  profited  by  his  undaunted  valor  I"  She  spoke  with  a 
slight  degree  of  excitement  in  her  tones,  and  her  eyes  sparkled  as  she  did  so  with 
generous  enthusiastic  admiration;  and  at  the  same  time  a  rich  flush — when  it  flashed  on 
her  mind  that  she  was  speaking  thus  unguardedly  to  one  almost  a  stranger — rushed  like 
a  torrent  over  her  clear  transparent  brow. 

"  Upon  my  honor !  upon  the  honor  of  a  French  gentleman  and  soldier,"  answered 
the  partisan  in  an  earnest  tone,  laying  his  hand  upon  his  heart  as  he  spoke,  "  dear  lady, 
you  do  me  at  the  same  time  too  little  and  too  much  justice.  Too  little  when  you  doubt 
the  truth  of  what  I  have  just  said ;  too  much  when  you  ascribe  the  glory  of  this  exploit 
in  the  least  point  to  me.  I  do  assure  you,  that  I  not  only  did  my  utmost  to  dissuade 
Wyvil  from  assisting  you,  but  absolutely  refused  to  join  with  him.  It  was  his  own 
deed  altogether,  and  you  will  be  disposed  to  laud  it  even  more  than  you  do  at  present, 
when  I  tell  you,  that  in  charging  down  that  hill  to  your  assistance  he  incurred  many  a 
danger  of  which  you  know  nothing.  Had  he  failed  in  his  object,  and  had  our  party 
been  cut  off  and  taken,  the  day  that  had  seen  his  release  would  have  seen  likewise  his 
military  execution  for  disobedience  of  orders.  That  is  as  certain  as  that  the  moon  is 
shining  now  into  your  window — " 

"How  so?  How  so?"  Sir  Henry  interrupted  him — "who  is  he,  and  what  orders  did 
he  disobey  ?  You  called  him,  I  think,  but  a  while  ago  my  countryman :  is  not  he  then 
a  Frenchman?  explain,  I  pray  you.  You,  I  know  very  well,  Sieur  Bellechassaigne — by 
reputation  only,  though ;  for  we  have  never,  I  think,  met  before  this  day  :  but  who  is 
your  companion,  to  whom  by  your  account  we  owe  so  much  ?  I  fancied  him  an  officer 
in  your  horse  regiment,  and  knowing  you,  believed  him  your  subordinate." 

"  I  am  indeed  your  countryman,  Sir  Henry,"  returned  the  cavalier ;  "  Marmaduke 
'Wyvil,  late  captain  in  Sir  Philip  Musgrave's  horse  at  Worcester  field,  now  bearing  the 
same  rank  in  the  most  Christian  monarch's  service,  but  with  a  staff  appointment  under 
his  royal  highness,  our  Duke  of  York  I" 

"  By  heaven !"  exclaimed  the  old  man,  springing  to  his  feet,  and  grasping  the  young 
officer's  hand  warmly — "  by  heaven !  sir,  right  glad  I  am  to  hear  it.  I  honor  you,  sir, 
for  your  loyalty.  We  must  have  fought  together  on  the  same  side  ere  this,  I  fancy — 
that  is,  if  you  bore  arms  before  the  murder  of  the  Royal  Martyr.  I  thank  you  for  your 
ready  help;  I  thank  you  for  your  valor!  Why,  girl — why,  Isabella;  why  sit  you  there 
so  shy  and  silent?  do  not  you  hear?  he  is  your  countryman — one  of  the  northern 
Wyvils — an  officer  of  our  good  king — and  now  I  think  of  it,  you  were  one  of  the  fifty 
gallant  spirits  who  held  to  the  king  to  the  last — ay !  after  the  last  too !  Where  is  your 
tongue,  girl,  and  your  hand  for  your  preserver  ?" 

It  would  perhaps  have  puzzled  Isabella  Oswald,  quick  as  she  was  of  intellect,  and 
bright  at  repartee,  and  used  to  the  great  world,  had  she  been  called  on  to  explain  why 
she  could  speak  to  Bellechassaigne,  and  thank  him  for  his  gallant  aid,  with  eloquent 
tongue  and  frank  unembarrassed  manner,  looking  him  in  the  face  the  while  with  bright 
unblenching  eye — and  why,  when  she  would  have  performed  the  same  easy  duty  toward 
her  own  countryman,  she  should  have  been  embarrassed  and  confused,  and  scarcely 
able  to  express  herself  in  words  at  all.  She  did  indeed  rise  from  her  seat,  and  all  the 
rich  color  had  vanished  from  her  cheek,  and  her  whole  frame  shook  visibly  as  he  raised 
her  white  fingers  and  pressed  them  to  his  lips ;  and  as  she  faltered  forth  a  few  words 
of  acknowledgment,  she  almost  stammered  in  the  effort ;  and  then,  as  raising  her  deep 
liquid  eyes  she  met  the  clear  bright  glance  of  Wyvil,  seeming  to  read  her  very  soul,  she 
blushed — brow,  cheeks  and  neck  and  bosom — the  deepest  and  most  burning  crimson ; 
turned  pale  again  as  death  upon  the  instant ;  staggered,  and  would  have  fallen,  had  not 
the  young  man  started  to  his  feet  and  caught  her  in  his  arms,  when  she  was  relieved, 
as  it  seemed,  from  fainting  only  by  bursting  into  a  violent  and  half  comvulsive  fit  of  tears 
and  sobbing.  Her  father  hastening  up,  Wyvil  consigned  her  to  his  arms,  saying  as  he 
did  so — 

"  It  is  no  wonder  !  the  perils  and  excitement  of  the  day  have  been  too  much  for  her 
— we  will  retire,  and  leave  the  servant  girl  to  aid  you — I  doubt  not  but  a  little  rest  will 
restore  her." 


2  MAHMADtTKE 

"  I  trust  it  will  be  speedily,"  said  Bellechassaigne  with  an  anxious  brow,  "  for  it  is 
time  even  now  that  we  should  depart.  We  were  detached  to  reconnoiter  Monsieur  de 
Lorraine's  march,  and  I  know  that  our  report  is  looked  for  even  now — besides,  it  is  too 
probable  the  enemy  will  send  out  their  videttes  to  scout  the  country,  and  if  so,  you 
are  far  too  near  their  quarters  to  be  safe." 

"  Oh,  I  shall  soon  be  better,"  answered  the  fair  girl,  mastering  her  confusion  as  she 
spoke ;  "  it  was  a  sudden  faintness  only  that  came  over  me — fetch  me  I  pray  you, 
Rosalie,"  and  she  turned  to  the  serving  maid — "  an  ewer  of  fresh  water  ;  and  by  the 
time  our  horses  are  prepared,  trust  me,  I  will  be  ready." 

"  A  noble  girl,"  exclaimed  Bellechassaigne,  as  the  door  of  the  kitchen  closed  behind 
them — "  a  noble  girl,  and  well  suited  to  be  a  soldier's  bride — but,  in  the  fiend's  name, 
Wyvil,  what  did  you  to  the  girl  to  scare  her  wits  away  ?" 

*  Faith  !  nothing  I,  Bellechassaigne,"  Marmaduke  answered ;  "  not  for  my  life  can  I 
conceive  what  so  much  overcame  her." 

"  Then  most  assuredly,"  replied  the  Frenchman,  "  you  are  one  of  two  things — either 
the  least  observant,  or  the  most  modest  of  mankind.  By  heaven !  if  I  had  such  a  for- 
tune, I  should  not  be  so  long  in  apprehending  it,  nor,  despardieux !  in  profiting  by  it 
likewise.  A  pretty  fellow  you,  to  be  so  able  a  proficient  in  the  art  of  warfare,  to  have 
defended  indefensible  positions,  and  carried  keeps  impregnable,  and  not  to  see  that  you 
have  sapped,  almost  without  an  effort,  the  first  defences  of  a  fair  lady's  heart — make 
you  but  two  or  three  assaults  in  quick  succession,  and  my  life  on  it !  when  you  call  a 
parley,  she  will  beat  her  charade  straightway,  and  offer  you  a  carte  blanche  in  the 
bargain." 

"  Tush  !  tush  !"  said  Wyvil  with  a  smile,  that  denoted  how  much  the  jest  of  his  com- 
rade had  gratified  his  self-complacency,  "  the  thing's  impossible,  Bellechassaigne — 
why,  she  has  hardly  heard  me  speak ;  scarr*3  even  knows  my  name." 

"  I  crave  your  pardon,  beau  sire,"  the  soldier  answered  mockingly ;  "  I  knew  not 
heretofore  that  it  was  with  men's  names  fair  ladies  fell  in  love — but  you  are  doubtless  a 
greater  adept  in  these  things  than  I — but  jesting  apart,  Wyvil,  she  is  a  most  rare  beauty 
— that  deep  wild  languid  eye — that  superb  hair — that  figure  so  magnificently  rounded. 
By  my  soul  !  I  can  scarce  believe  that  she  is  one  of  your  cold  half-animated  country- 
women— this  creature  of  e  heriality  and  fire  ;  she  seems  tome  some  passionate  romantic 
madriiena,  or  houri  of  old  Mahomet's  Elysium — well  worth  the  turning  Mussulman  to 
win,  oven  beyond  th«  grave.  Are  you  not  overhead  in  love  with  her  already  ?  you  too, 
who  have  but  to  thrust  out  your  hand  and  grasp  her — " 

"  Nonsense,"  repeated  Wyvil — "  nonsense,  Belle  chassaigne ;  our  English  ladies  are 
not  so  easy,  I  assure  you,  to  throw  themselves  into  the  arms  of  the  first  gentleman  that 
does  them  a  slight  service." 

"  Slight  service  !  by  my  soul !  if  you  call  it  slight  service  to  charge  a  score  and  a 
half  of  well  armed  troopers,  with  four  ordinary  retainers,  I  should  like  to  know  what 
you  call  heavy  !  Slight  service,  by  the  lord  !  If  I  had  done  my  duty,  and  ridden  back 
to  Corbeil,  as  I  ought,  with  my  intelligence,  I  trow  you  would  have  found  the  conse- 
quences anything  but  slight,  let  the  service  be  what  it  might.  As  for  the  rest,  I  dare 
say  that  she  is  a  trifle  prudish ;  most  of  your  pretty  islanders  are  so — but  what  then  ?  it 
were  a  poor  game  at  which  we  should  win  ever,  without  check  or  hindrance.  Now 
look  you,  if  you  mean  not  to  push  your  conquest,  just  say  so ;  and  I'll  fly  my  hawk  at 
this  fair  quarry." 

"  Oh,  fly  it  when  you  will,  Bellechassaigne — I  have  no  thought,  I  do  assure  you,  of 
adventuring,  though  she  is  as  you  say  very  beautiful ;  and  for  that  matter,  if  I  had, 
would  it  avail  me  anything,  I  fancy ;  so  far  at  least  as  aught  has  yet  occurred  to  aid 
me.  But  we  had  better  make  our  men  bring  out  our  horses — we  shall  have  sharp  work 
yet  to  join  the  army  before  daybreak.  I  doubt  not  the  fair  Isabella  has  rallied  her 
composure  before  this  ;"  and  almost  as  he  spoke  the  words  a  servant  followed, them  out 
from  the  inn  toward  the  stable-yard,  whither  they  had  turned  at  the  suggestion,  and  told 
them  that  the  lady  and  Sir  Harry  were  quite  prepared  to  set  forth  on  the  route,  so  soon 
as  all  should  be  made  ready. 


OR,     THB     MAID'S     REVENGE.  93 

"  Sound  them  to  horse  !"  Bellechassaigne  cried.  "  To  horse — to  horse  !  it  is  nine 
by  the  night  already ;  and  we  have  leagues  to  ride  ere  daybreak." 

The  bugle  instantly  sent  forth  its  long,  clear  summons,  waking  a  thousand  echoes 
through  the  still  evening ;  and  with  its  first  note  the  ready  soldiery  came  forth,  leading 
their  chargers  orderly,  and  mounted  and  fell  in  ;  while  Wyvil  and  Bellechassaigne  aided 
the  lady  to  ascend  her  rude  conveyance,  and  then  sprang  to  their  saddles. 

"  Pardon  me,  gentle  lady,"  said  the  Frenchman,  bowing  as  he  spoke  till  his  tall 
plume  was  almost  blended  with  the  tresses  of  his  charger's  mane — "  pardon  me,  that  I 
use  so  rude  a  word  as  must ;  but  we  must  travel  fast  to-night — as  fast  in  fact,  as  our 
steeds  will  carry  us.     Sir  Henry  will  accompany  your  carriage  with  his  chasseur,  while 
Captain  Wyvil  with  his  servants  will  scour  the  road  in  front  and  clear  all  obstacles 
away ;  and  I,  with  my  four  troopers,  as  the  best  armed,  will  follow  you  in  the  rear  and 
cover  you.     Only  remember  this,  and  now  I  speak  to  you,  good  comrade  mine,  should 
you  hear  any  noise  or  tumult  in  the  rear,  ride  on  as  best  you  may,  and  bear  our  tidings 
to  the  marechal ;  any  attempt  to  aid  me  would  destroy  not  only  yourself  alone,  but  the 
whole  army — the  whole  cause  indeed  of  the  king  !  and  so  God  speed  ye,  and  set  on  !" 
The  eyes  of  Marmaduke  turned  half-reluctantly  at  the  fair  face  of  Isabella  Oswald, 
lighted  up  as  it  was  by  the  bright  lustre  of  the  summer  moon,  and  caught  a  sidelong 
glance  from  hers,  which  were,  however,  instantly  averted  ;  and  for  a  moment  he  ap- 
peared to  hesitate,  but  before  any  one  could  comment  on  his  seeming  indecision,  he  too 
bowed  low,  and  turning  his  horse's  head  down  the  road,  led  the  way,  followed  by  his 
servants  at  a  swift  regular  hard  gallop.     All  night  they  rode  at  a  sharp  steady  pace, 
pausing  twice  only  to  breathe  their  horses  by  some  lone  well-head  or  clear  streamlet, 
hearing  from  time  to  time  the  rumbling  sound  of  the  rude  calash  which  bore  the  lady, 
far  behind  them  ;  but  never  halting  so  long  as  to  suffer  it  to  overtake  them.     They  met 
no  opposition  on  the  route — in  fact  no  human  being,  whether  friend  or  foe,  crossed  their 
path  as  they  hurried  onward  ;  and,  save  a  stray  wolf  from  the  neighboring  forest  of 
Senars,  no  living  creature,  until,  just  as  the  moon  was  setting,  a  sentinel  by  the  way- 
side levelled  his  arquebus,  and  called  on  them  to  stand,  and  give  the  countersign. 

"  Turenne — Turenne  !"  cried  Wyvil,  and  dashing  on,  scarce  stopping  to  return  the 
deep  salute  of  the  fautassin,  entered  the  streets  of  Corbeil,  and  halted  in  the  market- 
place amid  the  earliest  crowing  of  the  awakened  cocks. 

Wild  thoughts  had  flitted  through  the  brain  of  Wyvil  during  that  hurried  ride — wild 
whirling  passionate  fancies !     Hard  would  it  be  indeed  to  shadow  forth  the  thick  tumult- 
uous images,  which  rushed  in  like  an  entering  tide,  and  filled  his  whole  mind  for  a 
space,  and  were  in  turn  displaced  by  a  fresh  sweep  of  conflicting  feelings — for  it  assu- 
redly would  have  been  beyond  his  power,  himself  to  account  for  or  explain  them.     The 
past,  the  present,  and  the  future — gratitude,  honor,  love  !  sudden  an  almost  overwhelm- 
ing  passion !  ambition,  avarice,  and  above  all,  the  lust  of  power — were  all  at  once 
fiercely  striving  in  his  bosom.     The  words  of  Bellechassaigne  had,  like  the  puissant 
spells  of  a  magician,  called  forth  a  host  of  demons,  that  would  not  now  be  laid  to  rest 
by  any  effort  of  the  -mind  which  they  tormented.     A  passionate  admirer  of  all  female 
loveliness,  Wyvil  had  been  much  struck  at  first  sight  by  the  extreme  beauty  of  Isabella 
Oswald  ;  and  there  was  something  in  the  romantic  nature  of  the  accident  which  had 
brought  them  acquainted — in  the  close  contact  into  which  they  had  been  thrown  while 
she  dressed  the  wound  incurred  for  her  sake — in  the  mixture  of  sudden  familiarity  with 
conscious  bashfulness — that  added  much  to  the  effect  of  her  charms  on  the  fancy  of 
Marmaduke.     For  it  was,  indeed,  but  his  fancy  that  had  been  touched,  and  that  very 
slightly,  when,  by  the  chance  words  of  the  partisan  a  far  more  dangerous  and  subtle 
element  of  his  disposition  was  started  into  action.     Wyvil's  besetting  weakness — for  in 
him,  though  it  often  led  to  good,  oftener  perhaps  than  to  evil,  it  was  a  crying  weakness — 
was  vanity.     The  vanity  of  being  first  in  all  things — vanity,  not  ambition  !  though 
casual  observers  would  designate  it — though  he  himself  would  fain  have  palliated  it  to 
himself — have  dignified  it  by  the  title  of  that  far  higher  and  more  potent  passion.     It  is 
true,  that  it  led  often  to  the  same  results  in  Wyvil  to  which  ambition  would  have  led  § 


94  MARMADTTKEWYVIL; 

man  of  sterner  nature.  But  he  had  nothing  of  the  Cato  in  his  mood—he  never  would 
have  chosen  the  esse,  quam  videri  bonus — his  leading  object,  his  first  aim,  was  ever  to 
shine  prominent,  to  be  the  present  wonder  filling  the  mouths  of  men — to  be  held  brave, 
or  elegant,  or  foitunate,  even  though  he  himself  knew  the  falsehood  of  the  world's 
opinion. 

This  was  indeed  the  one  great  flaw  in  Wyvil's  character  ;  and  though  it  was  asso- 
ciated with  many  a  high  and  noble  quality — though  he  had  that  fine  sense  of  innate 
honor,  that  he  would  have  spurned  indignantly  from  his  soul  the  mere  suggestion  of 
aught  base  or  sordid — though  he  was  brave,  even  to  headlong  rashness — though  his 
heart  was  kind,  and  good,  and  full  of  noble  impulses  and  holy  aspirations — though  his 
head  was  in  other  respects  strong,  clear,  and  capable  of  judgment — yet  this  one  failing 
went  far,  like  an  alloy  of  copper  with  fine  gold,  to  corrupt  and  debase,  and  render  nuga- 
tory those  admirable  sterling  qualities,  of  which  he  was  undoubtedly  the  master.  And 
now,  although  he  certainly  loved  Alice  Selby  with  all  the  strength  and  truth  of  which 
his  wild  and  somewhat  vacillating  character  was  capable — although  he  would  have 
scorned  and  loathed  himself,  if  he  could  at  that  time  have  even  momentarily  contem- 
plated the  desertion  of  her  to  whom  he  owed  so  much — although  he  would  have  spat 
upon  the  man,  who  would  have  counselled  him  to  do  her  any  wrong — although,  above 
all,  he  cared  not  even  in  his  fancy,  beyond  the  moment's  passing  admiration,  for  Isabella 
Oswald ;  Bellechassaigne's  words  had  wrought  upon  that  solitary  weakness,  and  kin- 
dled it  into  quick  action.  A  bright  triumphant  vision  of  winning  that  high  beauty,  for 
whom,  as  fame  had  bruited  it  abroad,  already  half  the  gallants  of  Paris  were  vainly 
sighing — of  being  signalized  through  the  gay  court  of  France  as  the  conqueror  of  that 
impregnable  and  cruel  heart — of  being  the  possessor  of  the  most  brilliant  bride  in  all 
that  land  of  beauty — of  riding  as  it  were  unchallenged,  unresisted,  and  at  a  coup  de 
main,  into  the  stronghold  of  tha^cold  and  haughty  maid's  affections — flashed  vivid  and 
impetuous  as  the  lightning,  across  the  mirror  of  his  fancy. 

True  ;  it  was  instantly  driven  out,  discarded,  by  a  strong  impulse  of  the  better  nature 
which  was  yet  strong  within  him — true  ;  it  was  with  a  sense  of  shame  and  self-reproach  t 
that  he  became  conscious  on  the  instant  that  his  heart  had  swerved  for  a  second's  space 
from  its  fealty  to  sweet  Alice  Selby — true  ;  it  was  some  time  ere  the  finer  feeling  lost 
its  power,  ere  memory — the  memory  of  the  calm  pure  affections  of  that  fair  gentle  girl, 
of  her  heroic  self-devotion,  of  her  deep  fervent  feminine  love  faded  from  his  mind — but 
no  less  true  !  it  did  fade.  It  did  fade,  and  the  more  dazzling  charms  of  the  superb 
court  beauty  replaced  the  image  of  the  country  maiden.  Again  indignant  conscience 
rallied  its  forces,  but  it  was  only  by  a  stronger  effort  than  before,  only  by  summoning 
his  sense  of  gratitude,  his  sense  of  honor  to  its  aid,  that  his  heart  once  again  was  won 
back  to  its  allegiance.  And  so,  throughout  that  long  and  hasty  ride,  his  mind  could  be 
likened  only  to  a  confused  and  whirling  battlefield,  where  the  fierce  hosts  of  the  tumult- 
uous and  fiery  passions  were  mustering  fast  and  thick  to  the  attack  of  principle  and 
virtue  ;  and  when  repulsed  time  after  time,  banding  anew  their  scattered  legions,  and 
summoning  at  each  fresh  charge  fresh  and  more  foul  allies  to  aid  in  their  fell  onslaught. 
Such  conflicts  are,  alas  !  but  of  too  frequent  and  familiar  occurrence  to  create  anything 
of  wonder,  or  even  of  much  interest  in  the  mind  of  every-day  observers ;  but  it  is  from 
them  only,  that  the  keen  judge  of  human  nature  derives  his  intimate  acquaintance  with 
the  individual  heart  of  man,  with  the  general  heart  of  the  world — it  is  from  a  deep  and 
continued  study  of  them  only,  that  we  can  learn  the  sage's  hardest  and  last  lesson : 
"  the  knowledge  of  ourselves." 

The  minds  of  all — the  best  of  us,  no  less  than  the  worst,  are  subject  to  these  rude 
assaults — these  violent  temptations  ;  the  minds  of  all,  even  the  best,  at  times  succumb 
to  the  assault ;  the  minds  of  all,  even  the  worst,  at  times  resist  their  tempters.  But  it 
must  be  observed,  that  in  the  species  of  resistance  there  is  a  broad  distinction  ;  there  is 
a  steady,  resolute,  and  organized  resistance,  the  consequence  of  the  exertion  of  thoughts 
influenced  by  principle — a  resistance  which,  when  it  has  repulsed  the  first  attack  of  its 
insidious  foes,  though  possibly  it  may  carelessly  relax  from  its  first  vigor,  and  so  be  liable 


OR,     THE     MAID'S     REVENGE.  95 

to  surprise,  is  nothing  weakened  in  itself,  but  can  at  any  moment  rally  and  drive  back 
its  assailants  ;  which  from  their  very  nature  are  more  disorganized  and  scattered  at  every 
subsequent  repulse,  until  they  in  the  end  become  entirely  weak,  and  frustrated,  and 
powerless  for  evil.  There  is,  again,  a  quick  and  fiery,  though  unstable  and  irresolute 
resistance,  the  child  of  a  mind1  acting  ever  upon  the  impulse — which,  though  it  may 
beat  back  the  first  onslaught  of  evil  passions,  nevertheless  retains  a  recollection  of  the 
strife,  receives  as  it  were,  an  impression  from  the  shock  ;  and,  when  again  attacked  in 
the  same  weakened  point  of  its  position,  though  it  again  comes  off  victorious,  is  still  so 
much  enfeebled  by  its  own  irregular  and  impulsive  opposition,  that  each  succeeding 
victory  but  renders  it  the  less  unable  to  resist — but  fires  the  daring  of  its  enemy,  until 
its  whole  defences  sapped,  the  heart  of  its  lines  carried,  it  yields  at  last  ignobly  ;  and 
surrenders,  as  it  were  at  discretion,  to  foes  who,  foiled  often,  have  gathered  strength 
and  purpose  less  from  their  innate  qualities,  than  from  the  defects  of  the  system  that 
pretended  to  confront  them.  Such,  during  all  that  night,  had  been  the  state  of  Wyvil's 
mind,  harassed  and  agitated  by  a  continual  occurrence  of  thoughts  and  half-formed 
wishes  which,  while  he  felt  them  to  be  evil,  and  exerted  himself  from  time  to  time  to 
beat  them  back  and  banish  them,  he  yet  lacked  the  steady  energy  of  will  to  repress 
utterly,  and  crush,  as  it  were,  in  the  bud. 

The  consequence  of  this  with  him,  as  it  must  naturally  be  in  every  case,  was  that 
the  mind  became  habituated  by  constant  repetition  to  suggestions  from  which  at  first  it 
shrunk  abhorrent ;  and  that,  although  he  would  not  have  admitted  it,  he  became  half 
familiarized  with  the  idea  of  forsaking  Alice  Selby,  even  before  he  had  in  reality  at  all 
contemplated  doing  so.  He  was  in  some  sort  then  bewildered  still  and  confused  of 
mind,  when  he  halted  his  party,  a  little  while  before  daybreak,  in  the  market-place, 
ignorant  what  to  do,  or  whither  to  direct  his  course,  until  Bellechassaigne  should  come 
up ;  for  he  had  never  been  in  Corbeil  be-fore,  exceptfto  pass  through  it  at  a  trot  on  his 
outward  march  the  previous  morning.  He  had  not  been  there,  however,  many  minutes, 
before  he  found  himself  surrounded  by  a  dozen  or  more  privates  and  non-commissioned 
officers  belonging  to  a  troop  of  royal  horse,  which  had  been  quartered  there  some  time 
in  order  to  command  the  passage  of  the  Seine,  and  insure  the  advance  or  retreat  of  the 
king's  army.  4?rom  these  he  had  already  learned  that  good  accommodations  could  be 
obtained  at  an  inn  in  the  rue  royale,  known  as  the  lion  d'or,  when  the  rude  vehicle 
came  up  creaking  and  groaning  over  the  rugged  pavement,  escorted  by  the  daring  par- 
tisan and  his  bold  troopers ;  so  that  as  soon  as  they  came  into  sight  he  merely  waved 
his  hand  to  them  to  follow,  and  led  the  way  to  the  great  gates  of  the  inn-yard,  where 
he  was  standing  when  they  overtook  him,  thundering  with  his  dagger's  hilt  upon  the 
oaken  portals,  though  seemingly  with  no  effect  except  to  wake  a  thousand  echoes 
through  the  deserted  streets,  and  to  excite  the  furious  baying  of  one  or  two  gaunt  half- 
starved  mastiffs  which  were  chained  within  the  courtyard.  On  the  arrival  of  Belle- 
chassaigne, however,  all  this  was  speedily  corrected ;  for  at  his  order  the  bugler  of  his 
party  set  up  so  loud  and  long  a  call  of  his  shrill  instrument,  that  half  a  dozen  casements 
were  speedily  thrown  open  in  as  many  different  houses,  and  sundry  male  and  female 
heads,  clad  in  strange  night-gear,  suddenly  protruded  to  lean  the  cause  of  the  disturb- 
ance. A  moment  afterwards,  a  shuffling  step  was  heard  within  the  gates,  and  after 
reconnoitering  the  company  for  half  a  minute  through  the  grille,  despite  the  oaths  and 
objurgations  of  the  angry  soldier,  the  slipshod  hostler  unbarred  the  leaves,  yawning  and 
rubbing  his  half-open  eyes,  and  ushered  them  into  the  bass-court  of  what  had  been  at 
some  time,  before  it  was  degraded  into  a  house  of  public  entertainment,  the  mansion 
of  some  rich  proprietor.  Here  they  were  met  by  the  portly  landlord,  profuse,  though 
scarce  awake,  of  promises  of  entertainment  and  apologies  for  their  detention ;  and  here, 
having  assured  their  fair  charge  that  she  was  in  absolute  security,  Corbeil  being  in  pos- 
session of  a  strong  royal  garrison,  the  young  men  took  their  leave,  amid  the  unfeigned 
thanks  and  warm  acknowledgments,  no  less  of  Sir  Henry  than  of  the  lady. 

''•Rest  sure,  Sir  Henry  Oswald,"  were  the  last  words  of  Bellechassaigne,  "  that  you 
will  advance  yourself  nothing  by  moving  any  farther  on  this  route,  even  when  the  day 


96  MARMADTTKEWYVil; 

breaks.  The  army,  I  am  certain,  is  on  the  route  already  hitherward ;  and  as  the  tidings 
which  I  carry  will  only  expedite  their  progress,  you  may  depend  on  seeing  the  marechai 
Jure  before  the  day  is  six  hours  older.  If  then  you  will  be  ruled  by  my  poor  counsel, 
you  will  remain  here  till  the  post  comes  up,  and  obtain  such  repose  as  the  fatigues  and 
apprehensions  of  this  fair  lady  must  render  indispensable." 

"  I  will,  sir,"  cried  Sir  Henry — "I  will ;  and  that  right  willingly — and  now  I  will  not 
bid  you  tarry,  as  knowing  that  the  first  duty  of  a  soldier  is  the  prompt  execution  of  his 
orders  ;  and  trust  me,  you  shall  lose  nothing  with  Monsieur  Turenne,  for  your  service  ; 
and  now  farewell  for  a  short  space,  seeing  we  shall  soon  meet  again."  And  then,  their 
parting  salutation  made  on  both  sides,  the  cavaliers  rode  off  as  hard  as  they  could 
gallop,  Bellechassaigne  calling  out  to  Wyvil  with  a  light  laugh — 

"  Despardieux  !  but  I  am  not  half  so  certain  as  the  good  English  chevalier,  that  our 
service  shall  seem  so  good  to  the  marechai  as  he  deems  it.  Seeing  that  it  was  his  aim 
to  surprise  the  Duke  of  Lorraine,  it  may  well  be,  that  he  will  scarce  thank  us  for  beating 
up  his  quarters,  and  telling  him,  as  plain  as  we  could  speak,  that  all  the  army,  which 
I'll  be  sworn  he  fancied  at  Etampes,  was  on  this  side  of  the  Seine.  I  should  not  be 
surprised,  for  my  part,  if  we  were  both  ordered  into  arrest  directly  ;  and,  if  it  take  that 
turn,  our  lives  will  depend  on  the  good  or  bad  generalship  of  the  Lorrainers  !" 

"  I  see  not  that,  however,"  answered  the  Englishman,  spurring  his  horse  sharply  as 
as  he  spoke,  to  keep  up  with  his  volatile  companion ;  "  what  the  devil  has  the  duke's 
generalship  to  do  with  it  ?" 

"  You  are  less  apprehensive  than  your  wont,  then,"  replied  the  partisan.  "  See  you 
here— you  know  well  that  Conde  has  been  building,  these  two  weeks,  a  bridge  of  boats 
a  little  above  Charenton,  whereby  Henry  of  Lorraine  may  pass  the  Seine  and  join  the 
army  of  the  princes.  Now,  seeisg  that  the  duke  heard  of  our  onslaught  last  night 
before  sunset,  and  must  be  sure  from  that  of  Turenne's  movement  to  cut  him  off  from 
Paris ;  if  he  has  acted  with  the  smallest  judgment,  he  is  before  this  time  at  Charenton  : 
and  before  we  have  crossed  the  river,  here  at  Corbeil  to  the  eastward,  will  have  made 
good  his  passage  to  the  westward,  and  broken  up  his  bridge  and  joined  the  princes  at 
his  leisure.  That,  as  you  know,  will  utterly  foil  all  our  plans  for  the  campaign ;  will 
leave  us  in  the  face  of  a  superior  force  ;  will  probably  completely  ruin  the  king's  cause  ; 
and,  what  concerns  us  most  of  all,  will  be  the  consequence  of  our  misconduct,  and  will 
afford  a  very  pretty  pretext  for  treating  each  of  us  to  a  file  of  musqueteers,  and  a  volley 
at  twelve  paces.  So  now  you  begin,  I  suppose,  to  apprehend  how  far  it  concerns  us 
whether  the  Duke  of  Lorraine  be  a  good  general  or  a  bad  one  !" 

"  You  take  it  coolly  enough,  notwithstanding ;"  exclaimed  Wyvil,  not  altogether 
liking  his  companion's  mode  of  putting  the  case. 

"  .Of  course  I  do,"  answered  the  other  laughing  ;  "  why  should  I  not,  pray  ?  You 
would  think  it  very  odd,  if  I  were  not  cool  in  contemplating  the  result  of  a  volley 
from  five  or  six  hundred  Spaniards  or  Lorrainers  ;  and  I  have  yet  to  learn  that  a  score 
or  two  of  Spanish  bullets  do  less  harm  than  a  dozen  French  ones.  Tush !  man,  our 
business  is  to  die  when  we  are  wanted ;  and  what  odds  does  it  make  whether  it  comes 
by  a  platoon  in  battle,  or  by  a  file  in  execution  ?  There  is  this  in  it,  notwithstanding, 
that  the  faster  we  ride  the  less  the  chance  of  being  shot  by  Frenchmen,  and  the  more 
by  the  Lorrainers.  So  if  you,  as  you  seem  to  do,  prefer  these  last  so  much,  you  were 
best  spur  that  gray  brute  somewhat  sharply.  Dont  let  him  tumble  on  his  head,  though," 
he  continued,  as  the  horse,  urged  beyond  his  speed,  made  a  bad  stumble  on  the  rutty 
road — "  well  saved !  well  saved !  You  English  do  ride  well,  that  must  be  granted — 
and  lo !  here  is  the  Seine  and  the  bridge,  and  there  conies  the  sun  above  the  tree-tops. 
Hark !  hark  !  by  heaven  !  there  go  the  trumpets ;  and  see — see  there,  how  the  dust 
surges  up  beyond  the  hill — we  shall  soon  leave  the  worst  of  it !"  and  galloping  violently 
on,  they  soon  encountered  the  advanced  horse  of  the  royal  army,  and  in  less  than  an 
hour  were  busily  employed  in  threading  their  way  through  the  dense  columns  of  -the 
ceutre,  now  in  full  march  upon  Corbeil,  in  search  of  their  renowned  commander. 


OR,     THE     MAID'S     REVENGE.  97 

CHAPTER   XIX. 

A  COMFORTABLE  chamber  supplied  profusely  with  all  the  luxuries  and  appliances  which 
an  auberge  of  that  day,  and  in  that  country,  could  be  expected  to  supply,  the  chief 
of  which  was  a  convenient  and  well-curtained  bed,  soon  brought  forgetfulness  of  her 
terrors  and  fatigues  to  Isabella  Oswald ;  yet,  ere  she  sunk  into  absolute  sleep,  she 
could  not  but  think  much  and  deeply  on  the  occurrences  of  the  past  day — of  the  great 
perils  she  had  seen — of  the  enthusiastic  daring  valor  of  her  young  countryman,  exerted, 
almost  in  despite  of  hope,  for  her  protection.  Nor  is  it  strange  she  should  have  thought 
of  it  deeply ;  for  at  all  times  and  in  all  countries,  there  is  perhaps  no  quality  of  man  which 
strikes  at  first  so  strongly  the  imagination  of  the  weaker  sex,  as  gallant  and  fiery  courage. 
At  that  day,  too,  when  the  sword  was  the  surest — almost  indeed  the  only  instrument 
whereby  to  clear  the  path  of  honor ;  when  the  spirit  of  chivalry  was  yet  alive  and  burn- 
ing in  every  noble  breast  of  man  or  woman,  a  high  and  perilous  ernprize  was  sure  to 
win  the  admiration  and  regard  of  all  for  the  successful  gallant.  To  this,  in  Isabella's 
case,  was  added  a  romantic  sense  of  gratitude  ;  a  feeling  that  this  bold  deed  had  been 
wrought  for  her  sake  alone,  and  that,  as  the  existing  cause  of  a  chivalric  exploit,  she 
too  must  be  a  sharer  in  the  glories  of  the  actor.  It  must  not  be  forgotten,  either,  that 
Wyvil,  both  in  form  and  feature,  might  be  esteemed  a  model  of  masculine  and  vigorous 
beauty  ;  that  his  attire  was  rich  and  splendid,  and  bore  sure  witness  to  the  exquisite 
taste  of  the  wearer ;  that  his  air  and  demeanor  were  unusually  high  and  noble — easy,  at 
the  same  time,  and  dignified — graceful  and  polished  as  the  bearing  of  the  most  courtly 
Frenchman,  yet  tinctured  with  a  strain  of  frankness,  and  largely  fraught  with  a  sort  of 
proud  humility  that  she  had  never  observed  in  any  of  her  lighter  and  more  volatile 
adorers.  What  wonder,  then,  that  she  should  ponder  long  and  thoughtfully  before  she 
sank  to  rest,  and  that  the  thought  of  her  defender  should  have  been  blended,  after  her 
eyes  were  closed  in  slumber,  with  the  disturbed  and  whirling  visions  which,  rising  natu- 
rally from  the  occurrence  of  the  past  day,  floated  a  wild  phantasmagoria  through  her  brain. 

Isabella  Oswald  was  not,  indeed,  a  girl  of  ordinary  qualities  or  every-day  character; 
but  born  with  the  perilous  dower  of  uncommon  genius,  coupled,  as  it  almost  invariably 
is,  with  a  quick  sensitive. temperament,  with  powerful  affections  and  strong  passions; 
she  had,  unfortunately  for  herself,  been  educated  so — if  that  can  be  called  education, 
which,  in  no  respect,  ever  aimed  at  correcting  the  defects  of  nature — as  to  exaggerate 
rather  than  diminish  the  extravagances  of  her  native  character.  Her  mother,  a  Spanish 
lady  of  great  wealth  and  the  highest  rank,  whom  Sir  Henry  had  married  at  the  time 
when  an  alliance  with  the  infanta  had  been  contemplated  by  the  unhappy  prince  who 
had  since  expiated  his  faults  and  follies  on  the  scaffold,  died  in  her  daughter's  early 
childhood  ;  and  from  that  period,  the  young  Isabella  had  scarce  a  guide  beyond  her  own 
wild  inclinations.  Her  father,  who  in  his  youth  had  been  one  of  the  chosen  councillors 
and  courtiers  of  the  First  Charles,  with  a  prescience  of  events  which  it  had  been  well 
for  his  hapless  master  to  possess,  leaned  early  to  the  moderate  councils  of  Hyde  and 
Falleland,  and  those  wiser  spirits,  whose  prudence,  had  it  been  listened  to  by  the  mis. 
guided  monarch,  would  have  spared  England  years  of  bloodshed ;  and  soon  foreseeing 
that  the  neglect  of  these  would  lead  to  fatal  consequences,  had  remitted  the  whole  for- 
tune  of  his  lost  bride,  and  not  that  only,  but  the  price  of  all  such  portions  of  his  own 
patrimony  as  he  could  alienate,  to  France,  where  he  concluded  a  safe  asylum  would  at 
any  time  be  open  to  the  servants  of  the  crown.  It  so  fell  out,  however,  that  long  before  he 
contemplated  any  instant  peril,  he  was  qualified  by  circumstances  to  judge  of  the  wisdom 
of  the  measures ;  for,  whereas  he  had  looked  forward  to  exile,  as  to  the  consequence  of 
adhering  to  the  fortunes  of  his  royal  master  in  opposition  to  the  rebellious  and  fanatical  will 
of  the  people,  he  was  doomed  to  experience  first  coldness  and  neglect,  then  persecution — 
from  which  he  was  but  too  happy  to  escape  by  flight — at  the  hands  of  that  very  king 
whom  he  was  ready  to  support  through  right  and  wrong  with  undiscriminating  loyalty. 
Restless  and  active  both  in  mind  and  body,  he  had  scarce  entered  France,  before  he 

5 


98  MARMADTTKE     WYVIL; 

plunged  deeply  into  the  intrigues  which  were  harassing  the  vitals  of  that  kingdom ; 
and  adopting  the  court  party,  from  the  natural  bias  of  his  mind,  had  risen  speedily  to 
eminence ;  had  distinguished  himself  greatly,  both  in  the  council  and  in  the  field  ;  had 
been  advanced  to  a  high  station  in  the  army,  and  occupied  a  situation  as  prominent  as 
could  be  held  by  any  foreigner  in  the  great  nation.  This,  and  the  circumstances,  no 
less  than  the  character  of  the  man — his  want  of  domestic  ties  or  attractions — his  fury 
and  headlong  appetite  for  all  and  every  kind  of  wild  excitement — his  constant  absence 
from  home,  in  the  field  or  at  the  court — contributed  to  deprive  his  child  of  the  advan- 
tages of  any  solid  supervision  or  home-government ;  living  as  it  were  alone,  and  mis- 
tress, when  she  was  yet  but  a  child,  of  her  father's  grand  hotel  in  the  fauxbourgs,  with 
carnages  and  horses  and  attendants  at  her  command,  and  the  old  governante  who 
nominally  ruled  her,  in  truth  the  most  obsequious  of  her  servants — it  was  not  wonderful 
that  Isabella  Oswald  should  have  grown  up  a  wild,  untamed,  high-spirited  girl,  with  no 
guide  for  her  actions  but  her  own  eager  impulses  and  active  sensibilities,  with  little  powers 
of  self-government  and  still  less  mental  discipline  ;  but  it  was  somewhat  to  be  admired 
that  she  did  not  become  a  more  wilful  and  capricious  beauty,  reckless  and  violent  and 
headstrong,  the  slave  of  her  own  passions,  and  the  tormentor  of  all  who  should  be  thrown 
into  the  sphere  of  her  attractions.  From  this  her  natural  genius,  and  a  certain  resolute 
strength  of  mind  which  she  inherited  from  her  mother,  had  happily  preserved  her. 

An  eager  passionate  ambition,  which  was  perhaps  not  the  least  striking  feature  of 
her  mind,  coupled  to  an  insatiable  thirst  of  knowledge,  had  saved  her  from  frivolity ; 
and,  while  she  would  not  hear  the  least  dictation  in  matters  that  related  to  demeanor, 
to  all  the  masters  from  whom  she  could  derive  instruction  she  yielded  an  implicit  and 
unquestioning  obedience,  that  in  itself  assured  advancement  and  success.  Thus,  at  an 
early  age,  she  had  not  only  mastered  all  the  accomplishments  which  were  esteemed  in 
that  day  requisite  to  ladies,  but  many  which  were  rare  even  among  men,  except  those 
who  were  destined  to  the  learned  professions.  An  enthusiastic  and  complete  musician, 
a  dancer  second  to  none  in  that  land  which  then,  as  now,  was  the  great  theatre  and 
school  of  that  gay  science  ;  she  was  moreover  a  linguist  of  no  mean  capacity,  speaking 
and  writing  the  French  and  Spanish  and  Italian  tongues  as  fluently  as  her  own  native 
English.  Nor  was  this  all ;  for  she  had  dipped  somewhat  deeply  into  the  wells  of 
ancient  lore,  so  that  she  was  far  better  qualified  than  most  men  of  that  day,  to  converse 
with  the  great  and  learned  on  high  and  interesting  topics. 

This  course  of  reading,  it  is  true,  had  strengthened  the  powers  of  a  mind  naturally 
strong ;  had  filled  the  storehouses  of  her  brain  with  manifold  and  valuable  knowledge ; 
had  perfected  her  taste,  matured  her  judgment,  and  developed  all  her  natural  gifts  in  an 
unusual  degree.  But  in  effecting  this,  it  had  produced  other  and  far  less  favorable  con- 
sequences :  if  it  had  strengthened  the  powers  of  her  mind,  it  had  also  in  no  less  degree 
strengthened  her  confidence  in  them ;  if  it  had  perfected  her  tastes,  it  had  increased 
her  desire  of  consulting  them  alone  ;  if  it  had  amplified  her  judgment,  so  it  had  led  her 
to  respect  no  opinions  that  tallied  not  with  her  own  sense  of  what  was  right  and  proper. 
It  had,  in  short,  contributed  to  foster  in  no  small  degree  the  independence  of  a  spirit, 
already  perhaps  too  independent ;  so  that  even  in  her  fifteenth  year,  Isabella  Oswald, 
with  more  than  all  a  woman's  talents  and  accomplishments,  possessed  a  degree  of  energy 
and  decision,  that  was  sure  to  make  her  a  singular  and  distinguished — though  it  was 
highly  questionable  whether  it  was  like  to  make  her  a  happy  or  contented — woman.  It 
seemed,  indeed,  that  there  was  something  not  far  removed  from  a  direct  destiny — if 
such  a  thing  could  be — in  the  events  which  had  formed  the  character  of  the  young 
beauty ;  for  just  at  that  critical  age  when  she  was  budding  into  womanhood,  and  when 
from  her  increasing  years  she  was  becoming  a  companion  to  her  father — who,  had  he 
fallen  into  more  domestic  habits,  as  he  was  indeed  gradually  doing,  would  not  have 
failed  to  notice,  or  noticing  to  counteract,  the  undue  tendency  of  her  young  mind  to 
form  decided  judgments,  to  act  upon  the  impulse  of  the  moment,  to  consult  its  own 
opinions  only,  and  to  do  many  things  which  could  not  be  deemed  other  than  unfemi- 
ninely  and  unduly  independent—just  at  that  critical  period,  the  war  broke  out  in  Eng* 


OR,     THE     MAID'S     REVENGE.  99 

land  between  the  king  and  his  parliament ;  and  true  to  his  chivalric  sense  of  loyalty, 
Sir  Henry  overleoked  the  many  wrongs  done  to  him  by  the  man,  in  sympathy  with  the 
misfortunes  of  the  sovereign ;  left  his  asylum,  took  up  arms  for  the  crown,  and  trusting 
his  child  to  the  doubtful  guardianship  of  an  old  marquise  of  the  vielle  noblesse — who, 
to  complete  the  mischief,  was  something  of  an  esprit  fort  herself— fought  to  the  very 
last,  even  to  Astley's  fatal  overthrow  at  Stow-on-the-Wold,  with  a  determined  valor  that, 
had  the  cause  for  which  he  bled  succeeded,  would  have  placed  him  among  the  first  men 
of  the  nation. 

As  it  was,  he  who  had  been  at  the  first  banished  by  the  king,  was  now  proscribed 
by  the  parliament ;  and  once  again  escaping  to  his  old  asylum,  found  the  daughter 
whom  he  had  left  a  bright  precocious  child,  grown  up  into  a  dazzling  woman,  captivating 
all  around  her  by  her  rare  gifts  and  striking  qualities ;  but  formed  completely  and  ma- 
tured in  character,  already  almost  beyond  the  possibility  of  changing,  whether  for  good 
or  evil.  Such  had  been  the  early  history,  and  such  were  the  habits,  of  the  beautiful 
girl  for  whom  Wyvil  had,  unhappily  for  all  parties,  performed  the  brilliant  and  successful 
exploit,  which  had  at  once  so  powerfully  wrought  upon  a  fancy,  the  natural  tendency 
of  which  was  strongly  sensible  to  anything  romantic  or  poetical,  that  it  had  paved  the 
way  for  warmer  and  more  passionate  sentiments,  should  any  circumstance  occur  in 
future  to  call  them  into  action.  That  she  was  deeply  interested  in  the  handsome  young 
cavalier,  who  had  so  daringly  encountered  peril  in  her  cause,  cannot  be  doubted ;  and 
as  she  fell  asleep  on  that  eventful  morning,  it  is  quite  certain  that  the  last  tangible 
thought  of  her  mind  was  upon  Marmaduke.  Quite  overcome  by  exertion  and  fatigue 
and  terror,  she  slept  long  and  soundly  ;  and  although  many  a  strange  and  startling  noise 
rose  from  the  street  below  her  window,  and  tlmt  too  before  she  had  been  long  asleep — 
though  squadron  after  squadron  of  the  king's  cavalry  passed  at  a  rapid  trot,  clanging 
and  clattering  with  their  iron  harness  over  the  rough  stone  pavements — though  the 
loud  shouts  of  the  people,  awed  into  loyalty  by  their  imposing  numbers,  greeted  the 
royal  troops  with  stunning  acclamations,  and  were  responded  to  by  kettledrum  and 
trumpet — though  a  field  battery  of  ponderous  guns,  with  their  caissons  and  tumbrils, 
groaned,  creaked,  and  lumbered  through  the  street;  she  did  not  stir  from  her  heavy 
sleep  until  the  sun  was  already  high  in  heaven,  and  all  the  vanguard  of  the  army  had 
well-nigh  reached  the  village,  where  she  had  supped  on  the  preceding  evening. 

Just  as  she  woke,  however,  and  had  so  far  collected  her  ideas  as  to  be  aware  where 
she  was,  a  prolonged  flourish  from  a  distant  band  of  music  called  her  attention  ;  and 
conjecturing  at  once  that  the  sound  must  announce  the  army  of  Turenne,  she  dressed 
herself  in  haste,  and  hurried  to  the  window,  just  as  a  column  of  arquebusiers,  marching 
extremely  fast,  shoulder  to  shoulder,  in  the  closest  order,  began  to  fill  the  street  from 
side  to  side.  In  a  few  minutes  these  had  passed,  and  were  succeeded  by  six  fine  Scotch 
and  Irish  regiments,  under  the  royal  standard  of  King  Charles  of  England,  clad  in  the 
uniform,  and  officered  by  cavaliers  of  their  own  country — Monsieur  de  Navailles,  whom 
Isabella  well  knew,  followed  with  a  detachment  of  the  French  horseguards,  whose 
trumpets  she  had  heard  from  a  distance  ;  and  then,  surrounded  each  by  his  proper  staff 
and  many  a  mounted  officer  besides,  the  Marechals  Turenne  and  d'Harquincourt  rode 
by,  in  deep  and  earnest  conversation.  But  it  was  not  to  these  great  men,  nor  to  the 
gallants  who  swept  by,  glittering  in  gorgeous  arms  and  fluttering  with  scarfs  and  favors — 
though  many  of  them  were  acquaintances,  nay,  friends  and  suitors — that  the  eyes  of 
the  fair  Isabella  were  directed ;  though  with  an  earnest  and  inquiring  glance,  she  ran 
her  eyes  over  the  splendid  concourse,  as  if  in  search  of  something  which  she  found  not. 
After  the  leaders  of  the  army  had  passed  out  of  sight,  there  was  a  little  break,  as  it 
were,  or  interval  in  the  line  of  march;  and  then  a  squadron  of  well-mounted  cavaliers 
led  by  a  tall  and  noble-looking  man,  whom  she  recognized  as  the  Earl  of  Bristol,  came 
up  at  a  hand-gallop,  as  if  endeavoring  to  make  up  the  ground  which  they  had  lost. 
While  these  were  yet  beneath  her  windows,  the  drums  and  fifes  of  another  Irish  regi- 
ment, playing  one  of  their  wild  heart-stirring  melodies,  swept  cheerily  down  the  wind ; 
and,  almost  keeping  up  with  the  gallop  of  the  English  horse,  the  splendid  files  of  the, 


100  MARMADTTKE 

Duke  of  York's  own  regiment  came  dashing  through  the  dust,  trailing  their  pikes,  at 
the  long  swinging  trot  peculiar  to  the  natives  of  green  Erin.  What  was  there  in  the 
sight  of  that  wild  regiment,  that  so  excited  the  bright  girl  who  gazed  upon  them  ?  Her 
color  came  and  went,  her  heart  beat  almost  audibly,  her  small  hands  trembled  so  tha. 
they  scarcely  could  support  her,  as  she  leaned  far  out  the  casement  to  survey  them. 
They  did  afford,  indeed,  a  gay  and  spirit-stirring  sight — those  loyal  islanders !  The 
lithe  and  stalwort  limbs,  bearing  them,  free  as  the  deer  on  their  own  pathless  mountains, 
at  a  pace  no  less  different  from  the  trained  march  of  the  more  drilled  mercenary,  than 
is  the  gallop  of  the  desert  steed  from  the  procession-amble  of  my  lady's  palfrey — the 
merry  hawklike  glance  of  their  blue  laughing  eyes — the  hair  that  floated  in  loose  tresses 
on  the  wind — the  reckless  jest,  the  soul-fraught  merriment  which  rang  in  every  tone, 
which  breathed  from  every  feature — the  wild  clear  shout  of  faugh  a  ballah,  which  every 
now  and  then  rose  shrilly  from  the  heads  of  the  column,  as  they  pressed  on  the  track  of 
the  cavalry — combining  to  make  up  and  picture  the  very  opposite  in  all  respects  of 
the  stiff  rigid  martialists  of  that  age  of  stern  and  iron  discipline.  It  was  not  this,  how- 
ever, that  stirred  the  heart  of  Isabella,  with  a  strange  sense,  she  knew  not  what,  of 
mingled  hope  and  apprehension.  She  had  not  failed  to  note,  in  the  few  words  that 
Bellechassaigne  let  fall,  that  there  was  some  reason  for  dreading  evil  consequences  from 
the  slight  breach  of  orders — slight  in  her  opinion  and  venial  if  not  praiseworthy — of 
which  both  had  been  guilty  in  attacking  the  Lorrainers ;  and  having  heard,  from  Mar- 
maduke's  own  lips,  that  he  held  an  appointment  on  the  staff  of  the  English  duke,  her 
whole  soul  was  in  terrible  suspense  to  see  if  he  was  in  his  place,  beside  his  princely 
master. 

The  last  rank  of  the  royal  Irish  passed ;  and  immediately  behind  them,  mounted 
upon  a  Polish  carriage-horse,  dew-colored,  with  a  long  white  mane  and  tail,  a  young 
man,  richly  dressed  in  a  suit  of  dark-brown  velvet,  cut  in  the  fashion  which  has  derived 
its  modern  name  from  the  great  Flemish  painter,  with  russet  leather  buskins  and  a 
superb  cravat  of  Valienciennes  lace,  cantered  lightly  on.  He  wore  no  armor,  not  even 
weapons,  except  an  ordinary  rapier  hanging  from  an  embroidered  scarf ;  but  in  his  hand 
he  held  a  leading  staff  or  truncheon,  and  round  his  neck  he  bore  a  glittering  chain  with 
the  effigy  of  St.  George,  and  on  the  left  breast  of  his  mantle  the  diamond  star  of  the 
Garter.  He  was  above  the  middle  height,  graceful  and  slender  in  his  person  ;  and  he 
rode  easily  and  well  with  a  firm  seat  and  a  delicate  light  hand — but  although  very  young 
at  that  time,  the  darkness  of  his  complexion,  his  heavy  eyebrows,  and  the  hard  deeply- 
cut  hues  of  his  rigid  and  inflexible  lineaments  caused  him  to  appear  many  years  advanced 
beyond  his  real  age;  an  impression  which  was  in  no  degree  diminished  by  the  harsh 
periwig  of  coarse  black  hair,  which  he  wore  under  his  low-crowned  feathered  hat,  falling 
quite  down  upon  his  shoulders.  Yet,  though  he  was  decidedly  ill-favored  and  harsh- 
featured,  no  person  at  that  time  could  have  failed  to  see  that  he  was  a  man  of  conse- 
quence, and  character  to  match  his  dignity — there  was  a  quickness  in  his  clear  dark 
eye  that  spoke  intelligence,  and  spirit,  and  high-daring ;  there  was  a  firm  and  resolute 
curve  in  the  muscles  of  the  close-set  mouth,  that  promised  an  unblenching  steadiness  of 
purpose.  Such  was  the  Duke  of  York,  as  he  was  in  the  days  of  adversity ;  the  steady 
and  right  councillor  of  his  more  vacillating  brother.  Such  was  the  Duke  of  York,  when 
he  fought  side  by  side  with  Turenne — such,  when  he  gave  the  promise,  afterwards  well 
fulfilled  by  skill,  and  conduct,  and  unquestioned  valor,  displayed  as  lord  high  admiral 
against  de  Ruyter  and  the  Dutch ;  ere  power  and  priestcraft  had  debased  his  every 
quality  of  mind — until  the  conquerer  of  Opdam  sank  into  the  weak  driveller  and  coward 
of  the  Boyne. 

A  pace  or  two  behind  the  duke,  but  still  so  near  that  they  could  easily  converse  with 
him,  were  three  or  four  English  gentlemen,  among  whom  Isabella  recognized  the  Earl 
of  Berkely  and  Colonel  Warden,  his  gentlemen  of  the  bedchamber ;  but  there  was  not 
one  in  his  suite  whose  post  or  air  in  anywise  resembled  the  gallant  Wyvil :  two  or  three 
grooms  and  equerries  followed,  one  leading  the  duke's  battle-horse,  and  the  others  bear- 
ing dispersed  among  their  number  the  various  pieces  of  his  armor.  The  fair  girl's  heart 


OR,     THE     MAID'S    REVENGE.  101 

sank  as  they  vanished  from  her  sight,  and  were  succeeded  by  the  rear-guard  of  the 
army — composed  of  the  regiments  of  Picardy,  Richelieu,  Uxelles,  Carignan,  Burgundy, 
and  a  strong  detachment  of  the  French  guard — closing  the  long  line  of  the  march. 
Heart-sick  and  faint,  she  drooped  into  a  seat,  and  letting  fall  her  head  upon  the  window- 
sill,  buried  it  in  her  hands  in  sad  and  anxious  meditation,  until,  after  a  long  and  silent 
pause,  the  groaning  crash  of  heavy  wagons  again  excited  her  attention.  It  was  the  bag. 
gage  of  the  host  artillery  carts,  and  huge  wains  piled  up  with  chests  of  arms  and  clothing, 
and  mules  laden  with  tents,  and  foragers,  and  sutlers,  and  abandoned  women,  and  all 
the  base  and  worthless  rabble  that  ever  follow  in  the  train  of  camps  and  armies.  A 
dozen  light  pieces  of  artillery,  and  a  small  body  of  musketeers,  accompanied  or  rather 
brought  up  the  rear  of  this  disorderly  multitude  ;  and  she  began  to  reassure  herself  in 
the  idea,  that  now  indeed  all  had  passed  by,  and  that  to  the  country — as  was  in  fact  quite 
true — had  proceeded  the  main  body  of  the  troops.  As  soon  as  this  idea  took  hold  of  her 
mind,  her  sanguine  fearless  temperament  caused  her  at  once  to  assume  it  for  a  truth  ; 
and  having,  scarcely  a  minute  before,  been  quite  depressed  by  the  imagination  that  her 
deliverers  were  suffering  disgrace  and  perhaps  danger,  she  now  amused  her  mind  with 
many  a  gay  visonary  dream  how  they  might  have  been  promoted  for  their  gallantry,  and 
sent  on  with  the  foremost,  filling  the  perilous  post  of  honor. 

Already  satisfied,  and  for  the  moment  happy,  she  had  turned  to  the  mirror  which 
graced  the  antique  toilette  table,  and  was  arranging  her  magnificent  tresses,  humming 
a  gay  proven9al  ballad  as  she  did  so,  when  she  was  once  more  summoned  from  her 
employment  to  the  window  by  the  trampling  of  horses.  She  turned,  it  is  true,  to  look 
at  what  was  passing,  but  it  was  with  a  listless  air  of  unconcern,  that  was  as  different  as 
possible  from  the  excited,  restless  agitation  with  which  she  had  watched  every  sepa- 
rate company  as  it  swept  onward,  before  she  hit  upon  the  thought  which  now  possessed 
her.  A  single  glance,  however,  sufficed  to  change  her  air  of  unconcern  for  one  of  the 
deepest  and  most  agonizing  interest.  Every  drop  of  blood  rushed  back  from  her 
cheeks,  and  left  her  pale  as  ashes ;  she  clasped  her  hands,  and  wrung  them  bitterly,  and 
one  faint  shriek  burst  from  her  lips,  and  even  reached  the  ears  of  those  whose  situation 
caused  it.  The  horsemen  whose  march  had  attracted  her,  were  a  small  party,  fully 
armed  and  led  by  an  officer,  who  rode  at  a  foot's  pace  with  his  sword  drawn  at  their 
head ;  six  troopers,  three  and  three,  came  after  him,  all  with  their  carbines  ready,  the 
butts  resting  on  their  thighs,  and  their  matches  lighted ;  two  more  with  drawn  swords 
followed,  and  between  them — his  horse's  reins  linked  to  the  bits  of  their  chargers,  and 
the  sheath  of  his  rapier  empty — Marmaduke  Wyvil!  Six  troopers  more  succeeded,  like 
the  first,  with  their  matchlocks  in  their  hands ;  and  then,  guarded  like  Wyvil  by  two 
soldiers,  but  with  a  gay  and  scornful  smile  on  his  dark  features,  the  brave  Bellechas- 
saigne  !  A  dozen  dragoons  more,  and  another  sabaltern,  completed  the  sad  escort. 
The  face  of  Marmaduke  was  perfectly  composed  and  calm,  though  somewhat  paler 
than  its  wont;  until  the  shriek  of  Isabella  falling  upon  his  ear,  he  raised  his  eyes  and 
met  the  wild  and  careworn  glance,  and  noted  the  strange  paleness  that  had  supplanted 
her  rich  warm  complexion — then  a  quick  burning  flush  covered  his  face  with  crimson, 
as  answering  her  passionate  look  of  inquiry  with  a  deep  meaning  glance,  and  a  bright 
half- triumphant  smile,  he  doffed  his  plumed  hat  and  bowed  low,  laying  his  hand  upon 
his  heart  as  he  did  so.  Bellechassaigne  caught  likewise  the  faint  accents  of  the  lady's 
cry,  and  he  too  smiled  and  bowed;  but  there  was  nothing  but  high  daring,  mixed 
with  a  touch  of  scorn  in  the  expression  of  his  face  ;  and  as  he  bowed  he  raised  his 
voice,  and  called  aloud  : 

"  Fear  not,  dear  lady — fear  not  at  all  for  us ;  this  is  a  matter  of  mere  form — believe 
me,  we  are  in  no  danger !"  She  heard,  it  is  true,  what  he  said,  and  waved  her  hands 
mechanically  in  reply,  but  her  mind  scarcely  comprehended  the  sense  of  the  words; 
and  even  if  it  had  done  so,  the  grave  involuntary  shake  of  the  head  with  which  the 
officer,  who  had  them  in  charge,  received  the  speech,  would  have  entirely  counteracted 
their  effect.  She  watched  them  for  a  moment  or  two,  and  observed  that  they  took  not 
the  route  of  the  army,  but  turned  off  toward  the  castle,  which  she  had  seen  on  the  right 


102  MARMADVKB 

hand  as  she  drove  into  the  town  that  morning ;  and  then,  as  they  passed  round  the  cor- 
ner  of  the  street,  rushed  out  into  the  antechamber,  calling  in  tones  that  were  almost  a 
shriek,  upon  her  father, 


CHAPTER    XX. 

IT  was  about  two  hours  after  sunrise,  when  the  last  files  of  the  royal  army  extricated 
themselves  from  the  streets  of  Corbeil ;  and  although  some  difficulty  and  delay  occurred 
in  consequence  of  the  narrowness  of  the  bridge  and  ways,  through  which  the  army  had 
been  forced  to  defile,  yet  so  ably  was  the  advance  conducted,  that  no  breaks  were 
made  in  the  line  of  march,  but  the  communication  between  the  van  and  rear  was  main- 
tained uninterrupted.  As  the  troops  cleared  the  suburbs,  their  order  was  changed  in 
regular  succession,  the  fronts  of  the  several  columns  being  increased  to  the  full  width  of 
the  broad  highway,  and  their  depth  in  the  same  degree  diminished ;  the  cavalry  of  the 
advanced  guard  was  held  well  in  hand,  and  the  open  woodlands  on  either  side  the 
causeway  occupied  by  strong  bodies  of  light  troops,  sweeping  the  country  a  league's 
breadth,  and  keeping  somewhat  in  advance  of  the  main  army. 

It  was  a  beautiful  gay  sight — the  long  files  winding  rapidly  along,  now  seen,  now 
lost  among  the  leafy  screens  of  the  dense  forest — the  many-colored  pennons  of  the  cavalry 
glittering  through  the  tree-tops,  and  their  bright  armor  flashing  out  in  many  a  line  of 
dazzling  lustre.  Rapidly  they  advanced  throughout  the  whole  of  that  fine  summer's 
morning,  so  that  just  as  the  sun  had  reached  the  meridian,  the  heads  of  the  advanced 
columns,  mounting  above  Villeneuve  St.  George,  came  into  sight  of  the  enemy,  posted 
in  force  upon  the  elevated  ground  between  that  town  and  Charanton,  with  a  small  bat- 
tery of  heavy  guns  planted  on  the  steep  knoll  commanding  the  streets  of  the  town,  and 
enfilading  the  bridge  across  the  Hyere,  which  lay  at  its  base  ;  at  the  same  moment,  the 
two  marshals,  each  with  his  staff,  galloped  across  the  summit  to  reconnoiter  the  position 
of  Lorraine.  It  took  but  little,  for  a  general  of  Turenne's  unequalled  skill,  to  form  his 
plan  and  act  upon  it.  One  brief  glance  showed  him  that  to  attempt  the  passage  of  the 
river,  which  was  unfordable,  and  only  to  be  traversed  by  a  long  narrow  bridge  of  stone, 
commanded  by  the  cannon  on  the  hill,  and  defended  by  a  strong  t ete  de  pont,  would  be 
a  mere  loss  of  valuable  time,  and  only  to  be  effected  by  a  vast  sacrifice  of  life  ;  while 
it  would  have  left  it  in  the  power  of  the  duke,  by  leaving  a  small  part  of  his  infantry, 
to  defend  the  town  and  dispute  the  bridge,  until  such  time  as  he  could  fall  back  with 
all  his  horse,  composing  the  main  force  of  his  army,  to  Charenton ;  and  then  crossing 
his  bridge  of  boats,  effect  his  junction  with  the  princes.  This,  in  effect,  would  have 
frustrated  all  his  views  ;  and  it  is  certain,  that  for  the  time,  the  royal  army  was  in  a  sit- 
uation full  of  difficulty  if  not  danger,  from  which  it  was  extricated  only  by  the  splendid 
genius  of  its  commander.  Turenne,  knowing  the  country  well,  and  being  aware  that, 
at  the  distance  of  some  three  or  four  miles  toward  Brie,  the  Hyere  was  fordable  in  many 
places,  determined  instantly  to  march  along  its  banks  to  the  eastward,  and  passing  it  as 
soon  as  possible,  to  turn  the  enemy's  position  in  the  direction  of  Grosbois,  and  force  him 
to  a  general  action.  In  order  to  do  this,  it  was,  however,  necessary  to  alter  the  whole 
order  of  his  march  ;  his  cavalry,  which  had  up  to  this  time  composed  the  van,  being 
now  wanted  in  the  rear ;  which  it  would  be  in  the  power  of  the  duke  to  attack,  while 
countermarching,  by  throwing  his  light  troops  across  the  Hyere. 

This  change  was  rapidly  and  splendidly  effected.  The  forest  of  Senars,  which  cov- 
ered a  great  portion  of  the  country  between  Villeneuve  and  Corbeil,  broke  off  entirely 
midway  the  slope,  which  has  so  many  times  been  mentioned,  and  left  the  foot  of  the 
declivity,  and  all  the  banks  of  the  little  river  quite  open  and  free  from  encumbrance  to 
the  left  hand ;  although  toward  the  right,  the  woodlands  stretched  in  an  uninterrupted 
range  quite  down  to  the  angle,  formed  two  or  three  miles  off  by  the  junction  of  the 
Hyere  with  the  broad  Seine.  A  narrow  road,  the  same  by  which  Sir  Henry  and  his 


OR,     THE     MAID'S     REVENGE.  103 

daughter  were  travelling  when  attacked  on  the  preceding  day,  came  into  the  highway 
at  a  little  hollow  some  hundred  yards  above  the  meadows,  into  which  it  descended 
shortly,  skirting  along  the  edge  of  the  great  forest ;  and  by  this  narrow  defile  it  was 
now  necessary  for  the  whole  host  to  pass. 

The  cavalry,  uader  d'Harquincourt,  was  moved  down  by  the  main  causeway  to  the 
meadows,  and  there  deploying  formed  front  toward  the  bridge  in  a  transverse  line  from 
the  Hyere  to  the  edge  of  the  forest  facing  northwesterly  ;  and  half  a  battery  of  field- 
pieces  were  planted  on  the  road  so  as  to  sweep  the  bridge  in  case  of  any  sally.  This 
done,  the  infantry  filed,  corps  by  corps,  through  the  narrow  lane,  until  they  had  all  gained 
the  level  ground  to  the  eastward  of  the  cavalry  ;  and  then  they  fell  into  solid  columns, 
filling  the  whole  space  from  the  edge  of  the  road  by  which  the  guns  were  moving, 
down  by  the  margin  of  the  stream.  Until  the  whole  of  this  intricate  manoeuvre  was 
accomplished,  Turenne  sat  quietly  upon  his  horse,  with  all  his  staff  about  him,  watching 
the  enemy's  position  with  jealous  scrutiny,  and  sending  now  and  then  an  officer  to  ex- 
pedite  the  movements  of  the  various  regiments.  Once  only  did  he  quit  his  station  after 
the  royal  regiment  of  Irish  had  passed  him,  cheering,  as  they  did  so ;  when  he  rode 
down  a  little  way  from  the  hillock  which  he  had  occupied,  to  meet  the  Duke  of  York, 
whom  he  requested  to  halt  for  the  present,  and  remain  near  his  person  ;  nor  had  this 
happened  long  before  the  last  of  the  infantry  had  formed  on  the  low  grounds,  and  all 
the  cannon  were  in  full  march  by  the  road  immediately  above  them  ;  when  Turenne — 
having  dispatched  one  aid-de-camp  to  d'Harquincourt,  with  orders  to  draw  off  the 
cavalry,  and  form  them  in  the  rear,  and  sent  another  to  the  van  to  set  the  troops  in 
motion — cantered  down  from  his  stand,  and  wheeled  into  the  lane,  by  which  he  could 
communicate  at  his  ease  with  any  portion  of  the  column.  Just  as  he  turned  the  corner 
from  the  causeway,  the  quick  eye  of  the  great  commander  fell  on  the  broken  carriage 
of  Sir  Henry  Oswald  ;  which,  all  stripped  and  dismantled,  had  been  dragged  into  the 
low  brushwood  on  the  roadside  by  the  pioneers  of  the  vanguard.  About  it  lay  the 
bodies  of  seven  or  eight  horses,  their  housings  and  rich  harness  plundered  ;  and  not 
less  than  a  score  of  human  corpses,  entirely  naked,  as  they  had  been  left  by  those 
human  harpies,  the  foragers  of  their  own  party,  and  showing  by  the  terrific  wounds 
which  seamed  their  ghastly  limbs,  the  prowess  of  their  daring  conquerors.  Turenne 
pointed  toward  the  hideous  pile,  as  he  rode  by  with  his  leading  staff,  and  turned  to  the 
duke — 

"  This  proves,"  he  said,  "  the  perfect  truth  of  Bellechassaigne's  relation ;  and,  by 
my  word  !  although  in  contradiction  of  all  military  order — as  gallant  an  onslaught  as 
ever  was  made  yet  by  four  men  upon  forty.  Tete  dieu,  each  man  of  the  assailants, 
not  to  exclude  Bellechassaigne's  troopers,  must  have  killed  three  men  with  his  own 
hand  !" 

"  And  this,  I  trust,"  replied  the  duke,  "will  prove  a  good  defence  to  them — especially 
now  that  their  indiscretion  has  had  no  evil  consequences." 

"  No !  no  !  your  highness,"  answered  the  general,  laughing  ;  "  that  last  were  a  poor 
reason.  They  must  not  get  off  quite  so  lightly.  Had  that  been  possible,  I  would  not 
have  refused  so  slight  a  matter  to  your  gracious  intercession.  Consider,  this  was  a  very 
grave  offence — directly  contrary  to  orders — and  actually  imperilling  the  whole  army, 
the  whole  cause  of  the  king.  Besides,  our  cavaliers,  all  independent  as  they  are,  and 
serving  with  their  own  men  for  loyalty  and  honor,  with  neither  pay  nor  profit,  are  ever 
insubordinate,  and  readier  to  consult  their  own  rash  fancies  than  to  obey  commands ; 
especially,  of  such  as  suit  not  their  headlong  and  absurd  caprices.  No !  no  !  th-is  was 
too  flagrant,  and  we  want  an  example." 

"  Surely — oh !  surely,"  the  duke  interposed  again,  with  an  expression  of  strong 
interest  displayed  in  his  harsh  features,  and  his  voice  actually  quivering  from  the  agita- 
tion of  his  mind  ;  "  you  do  not  think  of  a  military  execution !  Two  such  fine  gallant 
youths — it  were  too  horrible  !" 

"  Not  I,"  replied  Turenne,  quite  quietly — "  not  I,  indeed  !  Good  officers  are  not 
so  plenty  on  his  majesty's  side  now-a-days  that  I  can  afford  to  shoot  them.  As  foi 


104  MARMADtJKE     WYVILJ 

Bellechassaigne,  too,  we  cannot  spare  him  possibly;  he  is  the  life  and  soul  of  the 
whole  army — half  the  most  desperate  things  that  are  done  he  does  himself— and  all  the 
rest  by  proxy,  driving  all  our  young  fellows  half  mad  with  rivalry  and  hot  ambition. 
No !  no !  we  can't  spare  Bellechassaigne  !  and  as  to  this  young  English  fellow,  by  the 
Lord !  I  believe  he  is  the  madder  of  the  two.  Fancy  a  charge,  in  a  velvet  hat  and 
coat,  with  four  unarmed  retainers,  upon  two  score  or  better  of  well-appointed  troopers. 
I  half  believe  I  should  have  shot  Bellechassaigne,  if  he  had  obeyed  his  orders  and  left 
him  to  his  fate,  as  he  should  have  done.  What  does  your  highness  know  of  this  young 
devil  with  the  unpronounceable  name  ?  has  he  ever  been  such  a  dare-devil?" 

"I  have  heard  say,"  answered  the  duke,  "  that  in  the  long  civil  war,  though  he  was 
then  very  young,  scarcely  indeed  more  than  a  boy,  he  was  the  shrewdest  and  most 
daring  of  all  Goring's  officers  ;  and  in  this  last  unfortunate  affair,  he  was  undoubtedly 
among  the  best  of  all  my  brother's  partisan  commanders.  In  fact,  it  is  to  him  that  his 
majesty  is  indebted  for  his  own  personal  escape  from  his  rebels.  It  is  said,  moreover, 
and  I  fear  truly,  that  if  the  king  had  followed  Wyvil's  counsel,  and  charged  with  all 
his  horse,  while  Cromwell's  men  were  in  confusion — for  they  were  beaten  back,  and 
all  their  cannon  taken  by  a  sally  from  the  town — the  fatal  fight  at  Worcester  might  well 
have  had  a  different  conclusion." 

"  Ha !  he  is  something  more,  then,  than  a  mere  swordsman,"  said  Turenne.  "  I 
wonder  what  induced  him  to  make  this  escapade.  He  could  scarce  hope  for  success, 
I  should  think ;  and  the  risk  far  surpassed  the  object  to  be  attained — unless  indeed  he 
had  been  smitten  by  the  beaux  yeux  of  this  fair  Oswald,  who  they  tell  me  has  turned 
the  heads  of  half  our  gallants." 

"  Oh  no,  it  cannot,  I  am  sure,  be  that;  for  I  am  certain  he  had  never  seen  her  till 
that  day.  It  is  but  a  little  more  than  five  months  since  he  came  to  Paris,  having  with 
difficulty  made  his  escape  from  England.  Since  that  time  he  has  been  constantly  about 
my  person  ;  and  from  the  21st  of  April,  has  been  upon  my  staff  with  the  army.  In  the 
mean  time,  Sir  Henry  Oswald  has  been,  as  you  know,  in  the  low  countries  on  business 
of  his  eminence,  and  this  young  lady  with  him  ;  so  that  I  feel  quite  sure  that  they  have 
never  met  till  yesterday.  If  I  am  right  in  my  opinion,  it  is  but  an  ambitious  craving  for 
distinction,  joined  to  a  spirit  naturally  bold  and  ardent,  that  has  led  him  into  this  deed 
of  rashness.  Besides  this,  marechal,  there  was  a  story  how  he  effected  his  escape  by 
the  aid  of  a  beautiful  young  girl,  to  whom  he  is  said  to  be  troth-plighted." 

"  Well ;"  answered  Turenne,  "  since  no  harm  is  done,  we  can  hold  them  under 
arrest  until  this  battle  has  been  fought  with  Monsieur  of  Lorraine — it  will  be  something 
of  a  punishment  to  these  men,  such  as  I  know  Bellechassaigne,  and  such  as  you  describe 
the  other,  to  hinder  them  from  the  honor  of  this  field.  After  that,  we  can  call  them  to 
a  court-martial,  and  sentence  them  to  be  reprimanded.  By  my  faith !  the  next  time 
Bellechassaigne  gives  me  any  trouble,  I'll  sentence  him  to  serve  in  the  army  and  not  to 
draw  his  sword  for  a  whole  campaign.  But  come,  your  royal  highness,  the  vanguard 
must  be  nearing  the  fords  of  the  Hyere ;  we  were  best  gallop  on,  and  see  what  goes  on 
there.  If  monsieur  is  on  the  alert,  and  has  sent  some  of  his  horse  to  dispute  our  pas- 
sage, we  may  have  something  to  do  yet."  And  with  the  words  he  put  spurs  to  his  horse, 
and  with  the  Duke  of  York  and  his  staff,  rode  forward  as  fast  as  he  could  for  the 
obstruction  offered  by  the  guns  and  tumbrils  of  the  artillery,  until  he  passed  beyond 
them  all,  when  he  galloped  forward  at  full  speed,  and  reached  the  leading  regiments 
of  infantry  just  as  they  reached  the  first  ford. 

The  little  river  at  this  point  spread  out  to  several  times  its  ordinary  width,  rippling 
rapidly  over  a  gravelly  bed  in  several  channels,  with  narrow  islands  of  meadow  land 
intervening — above  this,  for  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile,  the  stream  flowed  between  deep 
banks  in  a  strong  and  sluggish  volume ;  and  then  another  ford,  somewhat  deeper  and 
narrower  than  the  former,  but  still  quite  passable  for  horse,  occurred,  where  the  sandy 
road  wound  down  from  the  hill  and  crossed  the  bed  of  the  Hyere.  The  third  and  best 
ford  was  still  a  quarter  of  a  mile  higher,  and  there  the  river  was  easy  to  be  passed  by 
five  hundred  men  in  front  at  a  time.  On  the  farther  side,  the  meadows  were  quite  open, 


OR,     THE     MAID'S    REVENGE.  105 

so  that  Turenne  could  overlook  them  for  more  than  a  mile  in  distance ;  and  not  a  brake 
or  thicket  was  in  sight,  that  could  conceal  a  dozen  skirmishers. 

Halting  upon  a  little  knoll  beside  the  upper  of  the  three  fords,  the  general  sent  off  his 
aids-de-camp  in  all  directions,  to  hasten  the  march  of  the  infantry  to  the  spot  where  he 
stood — to  direct  the  artillery  to  come  down  from  the  hill,  and  pass  by  the  lower  ford  of 
the  three — and  to  bring  up  the  cavalry,  with  all  speed,  to  the  deepest  passage.  All  this 
was  brilliantly  and  successfully  conducted,  and  before  sunset  several  regiments  of  infantry 
had  crossed  over,  and  had  been  formed  in  line  of  battle,  facing  almost  due  west,  and 
having  the  high  road  from  Brie-compte-Robert  to  Grosbois — from  which  last  place  they 
might  be  something  more  than  three  miles  distant — on  their  right  hand,  and  the  river, 
which  they  had  forded,  on  their  left.  About  the  same  time  the  guns  were  got  across, 
though  not  without  much  labor  and  some  difficulty,  and  placed  in  a  second  line  behind 
the  advanced  infantry,  which  had  been  pushed  forward  so  as  to  cover  all  the  three  fords 
from  the  army  of  Lorraine; in  case  it  should  advance  to  meet  them.  At  this  time,  just 
as  the  cavalry — which,  when  it  was  evident  that  no  attack  would  be  made  on  the  rear, 
had  gained  the  road  on  the  hill  side,  and  so  outstripped  the  centre  and  rear  of  that — 
were  beginning  to  defile  toward  the  low  grounds  on  the  river,  the  general,  who  had  taken 
no  refreshment  since  the  army  had  left  Balacour  before  sunrise,  ordered  a  halt,  that  the 
men  might  cook  and  get  their  suppers — it  being  his  intention  to  make  no  longer  pause 
than  was  necessary,  but  to  march  directly  on  Villeneuve.  Fires  were  lighted  now  in  all 
directions,  and  nothing  could  be  fancied  or  described  more  wildly  picturesque  and  striking 
than  the  scene  that  was  presented  on  both  sides  of  the  river,  in  the  soft,  rich  light,  of 
the  summer  sunset :  the  splendid  uniforms  and  glittering  armor  of  the  confused  and 
busy  groups  that  bustled  round  the  camp-fires,  or  sat  in  lounging  attitudes  on  the  soft 
green  sward — the  long  line  of  stately  chargers  picketed  in  advance  of  the  dismounted 
cavalry — the  number  of  bright  standards,  and  many-colored  pennons,  pitched  in  the 
ground  at  the  head  of  every  regiment  and  squadron — the  mounted  officers  careering  to 
and  fro,  amid  the  whirling  crowds — the  frequent  stacks  of  arms,  flashing  and  twinkling 
in  the  sunbeams ;  and  over  all,  the  broad  blue  shadows  silently  creeping,  as  some  great 
cloud  swept  across  the  sky,  before  the  soft  west  wind,  and  intercepted  the  now  level 
rays  of  the  setting  sun !  Close  to  the  margin  of  the  river,  hard  by  the  upper  ford,  a  group 
of  three  tall  ash  trees — the  only  trees,  indeed,  which  were  to  be  seen  in  the  meadows — 
overhung  a  small  limpid  basin,  from  which  a  tiny  rill  of  crystal  water  stole  away 
through  the  long  thick  grass,  to  join  the  broader  stream. 

Under  these  trees  a  Persian  carpet  had  been  spread  on  the  ground,  and  a  large  piece 
of  scarlet  cloth  stretched  over  the  shafts  of  three  or  four  long  pikes  extended  from  tree 
to  tree,  forming  a  sort  of  rude  extemporaneous  pavilion,  under  the  shade  of  which  the 
Marcchal  Turenne  with  several  of  his  principal  officers,  and  among  these  the  Duke  of 
York  and  two  or  three  of  his  personal  attendants,  sat  jesting  and  conversing  merrily ; 
while  round  a  blazing  heap  of  faggots  at  a  short  distance  four  or  five  servants  were  at 
work  unloading  a  stout  sumpter  mule,  and  making  preparations  for  the  evening  meal 
of  their  masters.  Two  or  three  hampers  had  been  unpacked  already,  and  their  con- 
tents,  in  the  shape  of  sundry  cups  and  platters,  and  other  implements  of  silver  were 
displayed  on  the  carpet,  about  which  the  officers  were  sitting ;  while  in  the  basin  of 
the  spring  a  dozen  or  more  of  the  long-necked  flasks,  which  from  time  to  time  almost 
immemorial  have  been  consecrated  to  the  rich  sparkling  wines  of  Champagne,  were  in 
process  of  cooling  for  the  banquet. 

While  this  was  going  on,  and  many  a  lively  quib  and  repartee  were  passing  round 
that  merry  circle,  the  quick  glance  of  the  marechal  detected  a  slight  bustle  in  the  lines 
of  the  cavalry  that  were  the  highest  on  the  hill-side — a  dozen  or  two  of  the  troopers 
getting  in  haste  to  their  chargers,  and  falling  into  order  as  if  they  half  expected  an  attack. 
The  next  minute,  a  single  man  came  into  view  galloping  very  fast  down  the  forest 
road,  and  instantly  some  five  or  six  more  followed  him  at  the  same  hurried  pace.  On 
reaching  the  little  squad  of  mounted  men,  who  had  ridden  out  to  receive  them,  they 
halted  for  a  few  seconds,  and  then,  an  orderly  accompanying  themf  came  down  without 
relaxing  their  speed  toward  the  general's  station. 


106  MARMADUKE     WYVILJ 

"  Whom  have  we  here,  in  such  hot  haste  ?"  cried  Turenne,  gazing  anxiously  at  the 
approaching  riders  ;  "messengers  from  the  rear?  It  cannot  be  that  Conde  has  followed 
us  in  force — no  !  no  !  impossible  !  nor  can  Lorraine  I  think,  have  marched  on  Charen- 
ton.  Who  is  it,  gentlemen  ?  who  is  it  ?  I  thought  I  had  known  every  officer  of  the 
army — and  yet  I  cannot  make  him  out  at  this  distance.  It  is  an  old  man,  too  !"  And, 
while  he  was  yet  speaking,  before  indeed  any  one  of  his  train  had  time  to  answer,  a 
tall  fine -looking  veteran,  with  a  stern  acquiline  countenance,  a  profusion  of  long  silvery 
hair,  and  a  pair  of  thick  white  mustaches,  came  up  at  the  gallop  ;  and  checking  his 
horse  slightly  alighted  at  a  few  paces  only  from  the  ash  trees.  He  was  clad  in  a  rich 
suit  of  lialf-armor,  with  a  buff  coat  magnificently  laced  with  gold  worn  over  the  cuirass  ; 
a  high-crowned  broad-leafed  hat  with  a  black  feather  covered  his  head,  his  morion 
being  carried  by  one  of  his  servants,  and  his  long  basket-hilted  rapier  hung  from  a  broad 
scarf  of  blue  silk ;  his  air  was  highly  proud  and  military,  but  neither  port  nor  his  com- 
plexion— which  must  have  been,  before  it  was  embrowned  by  wind  and  moonshine, 
unusually  fair  and  florid — at  all  resembled  that  of  a  Frenchman.  All  seemed  to  recog- 
nize him  as  soon  as  he  dismounted,  for  all  rose  up  to  greet  him ;  and  Turenne  him- 
self, accompanied  by  the  English  duke,  advanced  some  two  or  three  steps,  the  first 
exclaiming  : 

"  Ha  !  I  am  charmed  to  see  you,  good  Sir  Henry — such  men  as  you  are  ever  well 
met  with,  upon  the  eve  of  battle.  We  heard  too  that  we  were  in  some  danger  of  having 
lost  you  altogether  yesterday." 

"  To  which  indeed  you  owe  the  fact  of  my  being  here — advantage  I  will  not  call  it, 
notwithstanding  that  you  are  pleased  to  be  so  complimentary.  I  was  indeed  desirous 
of  seeing  you  even  earlier  in  the  day,  but  I  had  difficulty  in  getting  men  and  horses  in 
Corbeil.  I  had  gone  out  across  the  river  in  the  direction  of  Montlebery,  where  I 
expected  to  meet  with  my  servants,  before  you  entered,  and  I  did  not  return  until  it 
was  past  noon.  There,  having  learned  that  the  two  gallant  gentlemen,  to  whose  good 
service  I  owe  my  life  and  my  daughter's  honor  are  in  disgrace,  under  arrest,  and  in 
some  danger,  I  have  made  all  the  haste  I  could  accomplish  to  overtake  your  excellency, 
and  beseech  your  pardon  for  them  ;  which  I  sincerely  trust  you  will  not  think  too  much 
to  grant  me,  seeing  that  I  have  fought  some  years  for  the  same  cause  with  you,  and 
done — as  you  have  been  good  enough  to  say — some  service  to  the  king,  our  master !" 

"  Sir  Henry  Oswald,"  Turenne  replied,  very  gravely,  "  you  are  too  old,  and  far  too 
good  an  officer,  not  to  be  well  aware  what  detriment  arises  ever  to  our  armies  from  the 
determination — for  I  can  use  no  other  term  to  express  what  I  mean — of  our  young  gal- 
lants to  act  on  their  own  impulse  and  responsibilities,  instead  of  obeying  orders.  In 
this  case,  the  positive  instructions,  given  by  myself  to  these  gentlemen,  were  to  discover 
themselves,  on  no  account  whatever,  to  the  enemy — my  object  being  a  surprise  !  Their 
conduct  in  disobeying  such  instructions,  to  say  the  least,  was  utterly  unpardonable.  I  scru- 
ple not  to  say,  that  had  Monsieur  de  Lorraine  acted  with  one-half  his  accustomed  fore- 
sight, all  we  should  ever  have  seen  of  his  army  would  have  been  the  last  files  of  his 
rear-guard  crossing  the  bridge  at  Charenton  ;  if  we  had  even  got  up  thither  in  time  to 
witness  that.  As  it  is,  even  now,  to-morrow's  noon  will  show  whether  I  can  prevent 
his  junction  with  the  princes.  Had  Monsieur  de  Bellechassaigne  obeyed  orders,  and 
returned  to  me  undiscovered,  we  should  have  fallen  on  him  unawares,  and  beaten  him 
ere  this,  God  willing  !  You  must  perceive,  Sir  Henry,  that  in  this  matter  martial  law 
must  take  its  course.  Had  it  been  possible  for  me  to  gratify  you,  it  would  have  given 
me  the  highest  pleasure — if  in  aught  else  I  can  oblige  you,  it  shall  be  done  forthwith !" 

"  Monsieur  de  Turenne,"  answered  Sir  Henry  haughtily,  "  I  hardly  thought  to  have 
been  refused  at  all,  in  a  thing  of  so  slight  moment.  Not  when  you  promised  me  of  your 
own  accord,  upon  the  breaches  of  Hesdin,  to  grant  me  any  possible  request,  did  I  expect 
that  I  should  have  occasion  to  remind  you  of  your  words:  as  it  is,  marechal,  I  recall  that 
promise  to  your  recollection,  and  claim  this  as  my  first —  my  last  request." 

"  But,  sir,"  Turenne  made  answer,  with  cold  inflexible  politeness,  "  your  request  is 
not  possible.  Had  it  been  in  my  power  to  grant  it,  you  would  have  no  need  to  prefer 


OR,  THE  MAID'S  REVENUE.  107 

it.  For,  in  that  case,  I  should  have  been  too  proud  to  oblige  his  grace  of  York,  to 
whom,  within  the  hour,  I  have  been  reluctantly  compelled  to  make  the  same  denial. 
One  thing  I  can  assure  you,  and  I  do  so  with  much  pleasure,  as  your  strong  interest  in 
their  behalf  is  natural,  that  neither  their  honor  or  their  lives  will  be  perilled  ;  further 
than  this,  I  cannot  speak,  nor  should  you  ask  me.  And  now  to  change  the  subject, 
which  cannot  be  agreeable  to  either  of  us,  we  are  about  to  sup,  or  dine,  if  you  have  not 
done  so  already  ;  will  you  not  join  our  party  ?  I  know  not  well  what  we  can  offer  you, 
but  I  doubt  not  that  Merlache,  yonder,  will  make  us  tolerable  cheer ;  and  I  am  sure  we 
have  got  some  right  good  wine.  Come,  come,  old  fellow-soldier,  lay  by  that  brow  of 
gloom,  and  sit  down  with  us." 

"  I  must  request  your  excellency,"  answered  the  veteran,  with  a  deep  and  formal 
bow,  "  to  excuse  me — seeing — " 

"  But  if  his  excellency  do  so,"  said  the  Duke  of  York,  taking  a  step  in  advance, 
and  cutting  him  short  in  the  middle  of  his  sentence,  "  I  cannot.  So,  Sir  Henry  Oswald, 
you  will  be  seated  ;  I  command,  on  your  allegiance  to  his  majesty,  my  brother.  What, 
man,"  he  added  with  a  gay  smile,  which  pleasingly  illumined  his  dark  features — 
"  what,  man ;  would  you  have  the  marechal  grant  you  a  boon,  which  he  has,  not  one 
hour  ago,  refused  to  the  blood  royal  ?  Tush !  you  forget  your  manners  :  but  a  word  in 

your  ear our  good  friends  will  be  cared  for — and  so  sit  down,  and  prove  yourself,  as 

the  dons  have  it,  buar  camarado. 

To  this  of  course  there  could  be  no  reply — the  veteran,  half  satisfied,  yet  half  reluc- 
tant, joined  the  gay  circle ;  supper  was  served,  and  the  bright  wine  went  round,  and 
flashing  repartees,  and  keen  wit,  and  light  laughter,  became  the  order  of  the  evening: 
until  at  length  after  the  sun  had  set,  and  darkness  spread  over  the  festive  host,  and 
torches  had  been  lighted  for  more  than  an  hour,  the  general  rose  from  the  carpet,  which 
served  his  company  for  seats  and  board  alike,  and  gave  the  word  for  the  drums  of  the 
infantry  to  beat  to  arms,  and  the  trumpets  to  sound,  "  Boot  and  Saddle  !" 


CHAPTER    XXI. 

THROUGHOUT  the  livelong  night,  the  meadows  and  the  banks  of  the  Hyere  were 
lighted  by  the  ruddy  blaze  of  many  a  flitting  torch,  borne  by  the  fast  succeeding  regi- 
ments, and  the  yet  broader  glare  of  many  a  beacon,  kindled  along  the  line  of  march,  to 
indicate  the  route  to  the  rear  of  the  army.  Midnight  was  passed  already,  before  the 
last  of  the  royal  host  had  extricated  themselves  from  the  ford,  and  formed  themselves 
in  line  of  battle  across  the  meadows  on  the  farther  side.  This  feat  having,  by  vast  ex- 
ertion on  the  part  of  the  officers,  been  accomplished,  the  trumpets  sounded  the  advance, 
arid  they  marched  on,  all  through  the  hours  of  darkness,  at  the  best  pace  the  obscurity 
of  the  night,  which  was  much  overclouded,  and  the  obstacles  they  encountered — in  the 
shape  of  marshy  ground,  and  of  many  small  rivulets,  and  brooks,  which  made  down  to 
the  river,  from  the  hills  beyond — permitted.  At  length  the  day  broke,  clear  and  pro- 
mising, and  the  great  sun  came  forth,  just  as  the  army  had  passed  partially  through, 
but  principally  to  the  left  of  the  village  of  Grosbois,  a  little  better  than  a  league  from 
Villeneuve  St.  George,  where  the  Duke  of  Lorraine  was  supposed  to  be  still  posted. 
As  soon  as  it  was  quite  light,  so  that  objects  could  be  perceived  at  a  sufficient  distance, 
Turenne  began  to  press  the  advance,  urging  the  men  to  march  as  fast  as  possible ;  and 
throwing  forward  advanced  parties  of  light  infantry  and  horse  to  reconnoiter,  keeping 
the  higher  grounds  himself  with  the  Duke  of  York  and  his  staff,  to  the  right  of  the  line. 
It  had  not  been  long  day,  however,  before  a  party  of  the  cavalry,  who  had  been  pushed 
forward,  was  seen  returning  at  a  smart  trot  along  the  high  road  from  the  direction  of 
Villeneuve  ;  and,  when  they  drew  so  near  as  to  render  the  recognition  of  particular 
persons  possible,  Monsieur  de  Beaujeu,  a  friend  of  the  cardinal's,  who  had  been  em- 
ployed by  him  in  negotiations,  which  had  been  going  on  uninterruptedly  with  the  Duke 


108  MARMADtTKE    WYVILJ 

of  Lorraine  ;  and  Monsieur  d'Agecourt,  captain  of  the  Duke's  guards,  were  discovered 
to  be  of  the  number.     A  few  minutes  sufficed  to  disclose,  that  Monsieur  of  Lorraine 
was  well  disposed  to  treat ;  the  purpose  of  his  envoy  being  to  request  Turenne  to  delay 
his  advance  for  the  present;  and  to  acquaint  the  Duke  of  York  that  the  king  of  Eng- 
land was  in  fhe  camp  of  Lorraine,  whither  he  had  come,  on  the  preceding  evening, 
with  the  hopes  of  effecting  an  accommodation.     After  a  short  pause  of  reflection,  the 
marechal  requested  the  duke  to  ride  back  with  the  envoy,  who  was  empowered  to 
plight  the  Duke  jpf  Lorraine's  honor,  that  he  should  be  safe  to  come  and  go,  in  as  much 
as  his  brother  was  desirous  of  conversing  with  him  on  the  subject.     The  prince  imme- 
diately consented  ;  and  being  charged  with  Turenne 's  ultimate  conditions,  which  were 
comprised  in  three  brief  articles — "that  the  Duke  of  Lorraine  should  immediately 
destroy  the  bridge  of  boats  at  Charenton,  subject  to  the  instructions  of  Monsieur  de 
Varenne,  who  went  for  that  purpose  with  the  Duke  of  York — that  he  should  engage  to 
quit  the  boundaries  of  France  within  the  space  of  fifteen  days — and  that  he  should 
pledge  his  honor  to  give  no  further  aid  to  the  princes" — rode  off,  with  a  few  personal 
attendants  only,  to  the  duke's  quarters.     In  the  mean  time,  however,  seriously  doubting 
the  good  faith  of  the  duke,  and  fancying  that  his  object  was  only  to  gain  time,  Turenne 
'  continued  to  advance  as  fast  as  he  was  able,  taking  advantage  of  every  favorable  posi- 
tion, and  keeping  himself  in  readiness  to  act  at  a  moment's  notice  on  the  offensive. 
Meantime,  the  Duke  of  York  made  his  way  to  the  position  above  Villeneuve,  extending 
from  that  town  on  the  right  flank,  to  the  road  from  Grosbois  to  Paris  on  the  left,  which 
Monsieur  of  Lorraine  was  fortifying  with  all  the  skill  of  an  able  general,  added  to  all 
the  personal  activity  of  a  shrewd  soldier.     As  the  young  English  prince  rode  up  the 
gentle  slope,  at  the  southern  base  of  which  the  town  was  situated,  he  was  struck  very 
forcibly  by  the  strength  of  the  position,  and  formed  a  high  opinion  of  the  ability  by  which 
it  had  been  made  tenable,  as  it  certainly  seemed  to  be,  against  a  superior  force.     All 
the  night  had  been.spent  in  unintermitted  labor  at  the  construction  of  five  strong  earthen 
works,  in  which  the  main  part  of  the  infantry  had  been  placed,  one  powerful  battalion 
having  its  post  as  a  division  of  reserve,  behind  the  principal  redoubt  in  the  centre  of  the 
line.     Behind  the  foot,  which  did  not  amount  to  above  three  thousand  men,  the  cavalry, 
five  thousand  strong,  were  drawn  up  in  two  liijes  of  battle ;  and,  above  these,  upon  a 
height  near  the  junction  of  the  rivers,  his  cannon  overlooked  the  whole  from  a  small 
barbette  battery,  at  which  the  duke  himself  was  laboring  like  a  common  pioneer,  pick, 
axe  in  hand,  when  his  noble  visitor  approached  him.     But  Monsieur  de  Lorraine,  before 
receiving  him,  sent  one  of  his  equerries  to  conduct  him  to  the  quarters  of  his  brother, 
who  was  at  that  time  in  the  town  hall  of  Villeneuve. 

Charles,  who  was  seriously  desirous  of  accommodating  matters  between  the  court 
and  the  duke,  expressed  his  apprehensions  that  the  latter  would  never  consent  to  them. 
"  I  tell  you,  James,"  he  said,  "  he  has  so  strongly  promised  the  princes,  that  he  cannot, 
od's  fish !  he  cannot  now  turn  back." 

"  Then  must  the  sword  decide  it ;  for  certainly  the  marechal  will  not  relax  one  tittle," 
answered  his  brother;  and  as  he  did  so,  the  Duke  of  Lorraine  entered  the  apartment, 
and  having  received  the  message  of  Turenne,  continued  for  some  time  to  joke  and  trifle 
in  his  accustomed  strain  of  half-sneering  badinage  with  the  princes.  It  was  not  long, 
however,  before  the  Duke  of  York  was  convinced  by  his  manner  that  much  of  his 
raillery  was  forced,  and  at  variance  with  his  real  sentiments.  With  regard  to  the  de- 
struction of  the  bridge,  he  readily  assented,  and  dispatched  several  of  his  officers  with 
Monsieur  de  Varenne,  to  order  his  engineers  to  cease  from  the  construction  for  the 
present ;  but  as  to  the  rest,  he  protested  vehemently  that  nothing  ever  should  induce 
him  to  affix  his  signature  to  conditions  so  dishonorable.  Then,  finding  that  the  duke 
would  give  him  no  hope  that  any  others  would  be  accepted  by  Turenne,  he  begged  the 
king  to  send  Lord  Jermyn  back  with  the  duke  as  a  mediator,  saying,  in  a  manner  half 
complimentary  and  half  sarcastic,  that  he  feared  much  his  royal  highness  would  be 
led,  by  his  chivalric  and  martial  disposition,  to  cast  his  vote  on  the  side  of  war  rather 
jhan  of  peace,  Tp  this  Charles  willingly  assented ;  and  after  a  few  more  compliments, 


ORj     THE     MAID'S     REVENGE.  109 

the  Duke  of  York  returned  to  the  royal  army,  and  Monsieur  de  Lorraine  hastened  away 
to  complete  his  arrangements  for  receiving  the  attack  of  Turenne. 

It  did  not  take  the  duke  and  Lord  Jermyn  many  minutes  to  reach  the  advanced  par- 
ties of  the  marechal,  which  were  already  almost  within  cannon-shot  of  the  Lorrainers  ; 
while  the  whole  meadows  were  filled  with  the  bright  lines  of  the  compact  and  orderly 
foot  regiments,  pushing  on  very  fast  with  an  unbroken  front,  their  standards  fluttering 
gayly  in  the  light  summer  wind,  and  the  steel  heads  of  their  pikes  and  the  long  barrels 
of  their  polished  muskets  flashing  back  the  early  rays  of  the  morning  sunshine.  The 
field-pieces,  with  their  caissons  and  tumbrils,  which  had  been  drawn  along  the  high  road 
on  the  right  flank,  were  moving  down  toward  the  centre  of  the  front ;  and  interspersed 
among  the  dense  files  of  the  fantassins,  the  squadrons  of  the  gayly-equipped  cavalry  were 
pressing  forward,  or  wheeling  round  from  the  rear  so  as  to  gain  the  flanks,  with  hun- 
dreds of  brilliantly-colored  pennons  flaunting  above  their  clear  steel  morions,  and  gor- 
geous scarfs  and  cassocks  partially  covering  their  polisked  armor.  It  was  a  splendid 
spectacle  indeed  to  unpracticed  eyes ;  but  those  who  now  looked  on  it,  had  been  too 
long  accustomed  to  all  the  pomp  and  pageantry  of  warfare  to  contemplate  it  in  any  other 
light,  than  as  a  combination  of  scientific  movements — a  living  game  of  chess,  played  at 
by  one  who,  in  those  days,  and  for  full  many  an  after  year,  had  no  superior  in  his  know- 
ledge of  that  terrific  art.  Galloping  on  as  fast  as  they  were  able,  and  constantly  in- 
quiring where  they  should  find  the  marechal,  the  envoys  made  their  way  among  the 
regiments,  several  of  which,  as  the  duke  passed,  cheered  him  with  the  wild  homage  of 
their  Irish  acclamations.  They  soon  reached  a  spot  were,  surrounded  by  his  staff',  the 
noble  general  was  standing  on  the  ground,  with  his  charger  held  by  a  groom  beside 
him,  while  his  attendants  were  engaged  in  putting  on  his  armor. 

"Well :  you  have  come  back  in  good  season,"  he  said  merrily,  "  Monsieur  le  Due — 
and  as  I  judge  in  vain ;  since  the  Lorrainers  hold  the  height  in  force,  and  we  might 
see  just  now  the  cannoneers  at  work  loading  the  guns  in  the  battery  yonder — your  men 
are  in  the  rear,"  he  added,  pointing  with  the  leading-staff,  which  he  still  held,  "  but 
not  far  off — you  were  best  ride  to  them  at  once,  and  arm  yourself ;  for  we  shall  be 
engaged,  I  fancy,  before  half  an  hour — but  who  is  this  you  have  brought  with  you  ?" 

"  My  Lord  Jermyn ;  who  seeks,  on  the  part  of  monsieur,  to  bring  your  excellency," 
answered  the  duke,  "  to  accept  some  more  moderate  conditions." 

"  It  is  impossible — utterly !"  Turenne  interrupted  him  very  quickly ;  and  though  Lord 
Jermyn  employed  every  argument  that  he  could  think  of,  to  persuade  the  marechal,  all 
was  in  vain  ;  and  after  an  ineffectual  attempt  to  prevail  on  the  Duke  of  York  to  return 
with  him,  he  galloped  back,  as  hard  as  his  horse  could  carry  him,  to  the  works  of  the 
Lorrainers. 

Meanwhile,  Turenne  had  finished  arming ;  and,  riding  forward  to  the  centre  of  his 
advance,  was  making  all  his  dispositions  for  the  attack,  when — to  the  surprise  of  all 
parties — the  King  of  England  himself  came  down  to  prefer  the  same  request,  which  he 
asked  as  a  personal  favor  to  himself:  but  finding  that  Turenne  was  still  inflexible,  he 
begged  him  once  more  to  send  the  same  terms  to  the  duke.  Monsieur  de  Gadaque 
was  then  dispatched  with  the  conditions  written  fairly  out,  and  with  instructions  to  have 
them  signed  upon  the  spot,  in  default  of  which  the  signal  would  be  given  instantly  to 
commence  firing.  No  halt  was  made,  however,  and  now  the  cannon  were  unlimbered, 
having  been  placed  in  battery  against  the  enemy's  works  upon  a  little  rising  ground  ; 
and  the  different  corps,  which  had  been  ordered  to  storm  the  redoubts,  took  up  their 
position,  while  a  strong  force  of  tirailleurs  was  seen  wheeling  round  the  right,  with  a 
view  to  occupy  the  great  woods  which  covered  the  left  flank  of  the  duke's  army. 
Everything  seemed  to  denote  the  approach  of  a  great  action  ;  and  the  hearts  of  all  men 
were  filled  with  that  strange  and  awful  feeling,  which  is  not  fear,  nor  yet  impatience, 
but  an  inexplicable  blending  of  the  two,  which  all  have,  at  some  time  experienced, 
before  the  step  is  taken  that  throws  them  into  imminent  peril.  It  was  at  this  critical 
moment— just  as  the  Duke  of  York  had  armed  himself  from  head  to  foot  in  a  complete 
»ijit  of  beautiMy,finjahed  Spanish  steel,  and  was  in  the  act  pf  mounting  a  strong 


110  MARMADTTKE     WYVIL; 

charger,  which  was  held  ready  for  him  by  a  dismounted  trooper — that  several  figures 
came  into  sight  on  the  meadows  in  the  rear,  riding  very  fast  from  the  fords  of  the  Hyere. 
There  was  something  so  peculiar  in  the  appearance  of  one  of  these  figures,  even  when 
seen  at  a  very  great  distance,  that  the  attention  of  the  prince  was  attracted  to  it  instantly ; 
so  much  so,  that  after  gazing  fixedly  for  a  minute  or  two,  he  called  to  an  orderly  to  give 
him  the  perspective  glass,  which  was  slung  in  a  leathern  case  across  his  shoulders  :  he 
had  scarce  received  this,  and  looked  through  it  for  a  moment,  before  he  closed  it  with 
an  exclamation  of  extreme  surprise  at  seeing  that  the  person  was  no  other  than  a  female, 
splendidly  mounted,  and  habited  in  the  richest  costume  of  the  day.  He  paused  a 
moment,  and  raised  his  hand  to  his  forehead  thoughtfully;  then  turning  his  horse's  head 
toward  the  new  comers,  rode  swiftly  a  few  yards  in  that  direction  ;  but  again,  as  the 
thought  struck  him  that  he  was  riding  away  from  the  enemy,  and  that  too  at  the  very 
time  when  they  might  be  expected  to  open  their  fire,  he  drew  in  his  bridle,  and,  casting 
one  more  look  to  the  group  in  question,  wheeled  his  horse  round,  and  took  his  way  to 
rejoin  Turenne  in  the  centre  of  the  front  line.  At  this  moment,  he  could  see  the 
marechal,  who  was  sitting  on  his  charger  within  point-blank  range  of  the  cannon  on 
the  hill,  and  scarcely  out  of  musket-shot  of  the  foot  in  the  principal  redoubt,  raise  him- 
self slightly  in  his  stirrups  and  wave  his  truncheon,  pointing  toward  the  works.  The 
regiments  of  Picardy  and  Carignan,  which  were  the  nearest  to  the  marechal,  taking  the 
signal  as  soon  as  it  was  given,  advanced  at  a  quick  steady  pas-de-charge  toward  the 
great  redoubt,  with  their  pikes  levelled,  and  expecting  every  instant  to  receive  the  volley 
of  the  duke's  fautassins — but,  as  they  moved,  the  regiment  of  York,  or  royal  Irish,  who 
were  a  little  to  the  left  of  the  centre,  jealous  of  the  French  troops,  and  fearful  that  any 
others  should  be  under  fire  before  themselves,  set  up  the  wild  and  thrilling  cheer  of 
their  country,  and  dashed  forward,  brandishing  their  arms,  at  a  pace  that  would  have 
precipitated  them  before  many  minutes  into  the  hostile  lines. 

Perceiving  this,  the  duke  set  spurs  to  his  war-horse,  and  drove  across  the  open  ground 
at  the  top  of  his  speed,  taking  three  or  four  small  ditches  in  his  stride,  until  he  overtook 
his  regiment,  which  was  perhaps  two,  or  at  most  three  hundred  yards  from  the  breast- 
works. The  pace  which  they  had  rushed  forward  was  so  great,  that  they  were  quite 
unable  to  sustain  it  for  the  whole  distance  ;  and  the  consequence  was  that,  some  of  the 
men  outstripping  the  rest,  the  line  was  much  shaken  and  disordered,  and,  had  it  con- 
tinued its  impetuous  and  uneven  progress,  must  very  soon  have  fallen  into  entire  dis- 
array. In  some  respects,  however,  this  was  fortunate  ;  for  the  subaltern  officers,  who 
in  the  first  instance  had  been  infected  with  the  same  rashness  which  had  overset  the 
discipline  of  their  men,  had  found  time  for  reflection,  and  had  perceived  the  fatal  con- 
sequences of  the  headlong  rush  by  which  they  were  now  hurried  on  themselves,  pow- 
erless to  control  their  soldiery.  The  men  themselves,  moreover,  were  many  of  them 
breathless  and  overdone ;  so  that  when  the  duke  overtook  them,  and  wheeled  his  horse 
round  their  right,  pulling  him  up  in  the  face  of  their  lines,  midway  between  them  and 
the  enemy,  and  raising  his  leading-staff  high  in  air,  called  to  them  in  a  voice  full  of 
determination  and  authority  to  "  halt,"  they  did  so  on  the  instant.  Ashamed  of  their 
own  mad  precipitation,  the  officers  toiled  strenuously  to  reform  the  shaken  ranks,  and 
in  less  time  than  it  has  taken  to  describe  it,  the  lines  presented  an  unbroken  regular 
front,  ready  to  march  in  steady  order  against  the  fortified  posts  of  the  Lorrainers.  The 
duke  addressed  them  in  a  few  words  of  high  and  somewhat  harsh  remonstrance;  and 
then,  perceiving  that  the  French  columns,  which  had  been  outstripped  by  the  headlong 
rush  of  the  Irish,  had  in  the  interval  come  up  and  formed  an  even  line,  drawing  his 
sword  from  the  sheath  dismounted,  giving  his  horse  and  leading-stafT  to  Colonel  Worden, 
his  equerry.  "  Now,  gentlemen,"  he  said,  "  we  will  advance  together — so  in  God's 

name,  for  Ireland  and  France — forward — ma "  but  the  word  died  upon  his  tongue 

before  the  order  was  pronounced — for  as  he  raised  his  voice  to  give  it  audibly,  his  eye 
fell  upon  a  broad  white  ensign,  which  was  displayed  from  the  barbette-battery  on  the 
hill,  and  on  the  forms  of  several  mounted  officers  galloping  down  to  the  redoubts,  as  if 
in  obedience  to  some  new  and  sudden  order.  Within  the  space  of  a  few  seconds, 


OR,     THE     MAIDJS     REVENGE.  Ill 

before  he  had  time  to  consider  well  the  meaning  of  the  movement,  a  small  white  flag 
was  hoisted  on  each  of  the  redoubts,  and  the  next  minute  the  French  regiments  to  his 
left  halted,  so  that  now  doubting  nothing  but  that  the  Duke  of  Loraine  had  consented 
to  the  marechal's  condition,  he  gave  the  word  to  his  men  to  halt  and  stand  firm ;  and 
immediately  remounted  his  charger,  and  resumed  his  truncheon.  He  had  scarce  settled 
himself,  however,  firmly  in  his  saddle,  before  an  orderly  rode  up,  and  informed  him  that 
an  accommodation  had  been  made,  and  that  the  marechal  required  his  presence,  beg- 
ging him  to  leave  orders  with  the  lieutenant  colonel  of  the  Irish,  to  hold  them  steady 
to  their  arms,  as  there  might  well  be  treachery ;  but  not  to  stir  a  pace  without  fresh 
orders.  The  duke  gave  the  directions  necessary,  and  without  loss  of  time  returned  to 
join  the  marechal ;  but  long  before  he  reached  him,  he  saw  the  female  figure,  whom  he 
had  noticed  at  a  distance,  gallop  up  to  the  assembled  officers,  amid  the  undisguised 
astonishment  and  noisy  exclamations  of  the  soldiery,  and  springing  from  the  saddle, 
throw  herself  on  the  ground  before  the  general's  charger,  clasping  her  hands  about  his 
booted  leg,  and  seeming  to  address  him  with  wild  vehemence.  It  may  be  readily  sup- 
posed,  that  a  sight  so  strange  as  this  prompted  the  young  prince  to  hurry,  even  faster 
than  before,  to  the  spot  where  it  was  enacting ;  but  it  was  not  mere  curiosity  that 
urged  him  to  make  haste,  for,  from  the  moment  of  her  first  appearance,  he  had  suspected, 
who  the  lady  was  that  dared  to  brave,  not  only  the  dread  terrors  of  a  battle-field,  but 
the  world's  censure,  which  must  follow  proceedings  so  unfeminine  and  rash.  Rapidly 
as  he  spurred,  however,  he  could  not  come  up  to  the  presence  of  Turenne  in  time  to 
witness  all  that  passed ;  for,  in  the  first  place,  several  servants,  in  liveries  which  he 
well  knew,  followed  their  mistress  at  full  speed  to  the  spot,  covering  the  group  beyond 
from  his  gaze ;  and,  in  the  second,  all  the  staff  had  simultaneously  leaped  from  their 
horses,  and  gathered  round  the  lady  and  the  general.  For  some  short  space  it  seemed 
to  the  duke,  that  the  press  was  so  dense  around  the  latter  as  to  prevent  him  from  dis- 
mounting ;  for  his  plumed  hat  and  noble  head  were  clearly  visible  above  the  crowd, 
though  bending  down  toward  the  suppliant  at  his  feet — presently  these,  however,  dis- 
appeared ;  and  it  was  evident  from  the  motions  of  the  group,  beginning  to  diverge,  that 
he  had  alighted  and  was  conversing  with  the  lady.  In  virtue  of  his  rank  and  illustrious 
birth,  as  soon  as  he  had  come  up  and  given  his  horse  to  one  of  the  equerries,  way 
was  made  for  the  Duke  of  York ;  and  in  a  moment  he  perceived  that  his  suspicions 
had  been  too  correct,  and  that  it  was  indeed  Isabella  Oswald,  who  had  actually  ridden 
through  a  great  part  of  the  night,  and  made  her  way — exposed  to  rude  surmise  at  least, 
if  not  to  actual  contumely — through  the  disorderly  and  vicious  followers  of  the  camp, 
to  prefer,  as  it  seemed,  some  personal  request  to  the  marechal  upon  the  very  field  of 
battle.  The  first  words  that  fell  on  the  duke's  ears  were  from  the  lips  of  that  lovely 
girl ;  and  although  under  circumstances  so  unusual,  and  at  a  time  so  fearful  to  the  nature 
of  a  delicate  woman,  her  voice  faltered  not  the  least,  nor  were  her  accents  tremulous 
or  hurried  ;  but  every  tone,  though  low  and  femininely  soft,  was  clear,  and  evenly 
pitched,  and  thrilling  as  a  silver  trumpet. 

"  I  have  your  word,  then,  Marechal  Turenne — a  word  which  never  yet  was  ques- 
tioned, much  less  broken — pledged  for  their  liberty  and  honor." 

"  You  have,  indeed — you  have,  indeed,  dear  lady,"  answered  the  general,  in  tones 
that  manifested  his  strong  sympathy.  "  They  are  free  from  this  moment ;  and,  had  I 
deemed  it  possible  that  you,  the  daughter  of  my  old  friend  and  comrade,  could  possibly 
have  been  exposed  to  this,  by  all  my  hopes  of  heaven  !  I  would  have  cast  down  rank 
and  power,  and  life  and  all — save  honor — as  I  cast  down  that  gilded  bauble  ;"  and  with 
the  words  he  tossed  away  his  marshal's  baton — "  rather  than  so  much  as  arrest  them ! 
For  God's  sake  now,  dear  lady,  let  there  be  no  more  said  about  it,  but  presently  with- 
draw ;  peace  is  concluded  here — and  I  will  send  you  with  a  trumpet,  and  a  befiting 
train,  into  Villeneuve  St.  George  ;  until  such  time  as  I  can  leave  Sir  Henry,  summoned 
from  the  woods  yonder,  where  he  commands  our  tirailleurs,  to  take  charge  of  you.  I 
pray,  no  words  young  lady.  You  know  not— cannot  dream,  what  risks  you  have  run 
last  night,  or  what  will  be  said  of  this  hereafter." 


112  MARMADtTKE     WYVILJ 

"  I  come  of  a  bold  race,  marechal,"  she  answered,  with  a  scornful  motion  of  her 
head,  tossing  away  the  ringlets  which  had  fallen  over  her  high  brow  and  flashing  features ; 
"  nor  am  I  the  first  daughter  of  it  that  has  looked  on  a  foughten  field,  if  annals  tell 
the  truth — that  I  should  shrink  from  doing  right  for  the  risk  of  a  little  peril !" 

"  There  are  some  risks,  lady,"  the  general  made  reply,  with  an  impressive  and  grave 
air,  "  which  none,  however  rash,  should  incur  ever !  some  perils  which  the  bravest 
should  avoid !  Honor  is  not  a  thing  to  risk,  nor  repute  to  peril !  and — '* 

"  Honor !  repute  !"  she  interrupted  him,  her  clear  voice  ringing  supernaturally  shrill, 
and  her  eyes  blazing  with  indignant  anger ;  "  my  honor  !  who  dare  question  it  1  31y 
repute  never  has  been  risked  !  or,  if  it  have,  I  know  how  to  defend  the  one — how  to 
avenge  the  other  !  But  you  mean  kindly,  and,  I  am  certain,  honorably,  marechal,"  she 
continued,  her  momentary  anger  vanishing,  as  she  perceived  and  appreciated  the  gen- 
eral's motives  ;  "  and  with  thanks  for  your  kindness,  I  will  submit  to  your  dictation." 

"  Indeed,  I  do,  dear  lady,"  Turenne  made  answer  ;  "  and  so  far  from  impugning  your 
repute,  or  questioning  your  honor,  there  is  no  gentleman  in  France,  who  would  so 
gladly  draw  his  sword  to  right  you — nor  did  I  mean  to  say  that  you  had  risked  them ; 
though  I  must  say  you  have  acted  rashly,  and  given  some  scope  to  ill  tongues,  which 
everywhere  abound  !  but,  by  my  honor  !  were  I  Sir  Henry  Oswald,  I  should  know  how 
to  deal  with  the  knaves  that  led  you  hither !" 

"  It  was  Sir  Henry's  own  fault,"  answered  she,  somewhat  more  meekly  than  before, 
"  if  fault  there  be,  that  I  am  here  at  all !  He  promised,  when  he  left  Corbeil,  that  he 
would  send  me  tidings  when  he  saw  you;  and  here  you  tell  me  that  he  knew  last  night 
these  gentlemen  were  in  no  peril,  yet  hath  he  sent  me  no  word  of  it — and  all  the  town 
was  ringing  with  rumor  that  they  should  die  this  evening !  Believe  me,  sir — believe 
me,"  she  went  on,  speaking  with  much  feeling  and  some  vehemence,  "  I  felt  and  knew 
that  much  might  be  said  against  my  coming  hither ;  but  I  knew  likewise  that,  with 
six  trusty  followers,  there  could  no  real  risk  befal  my  father's  daughter,  even  from  the 
basest  of  the  king's  army !  and  I  felt,  more  than  all  the  rest,  that  it  would  comport  ill 
indeed  with  my  honor,  that  two  brave  gentlemen  should  fall  disgraced  upon  the  scaffold 
for  rescuing  that  honor,  and  I  not  move  a  step  to  aid  them.  These,  noble  Turenne, 
only  these  were  my  motives  !  The  gentlemen  we  speak  of  I  never  saw  till  two  days 
since  !  never  may  see  again !  and  scarce  should  recognize  if  I  did  see  them !"  she  broke 
off  suddenly ;  and  overpowered  quite  with  the  revulsion  of  her  feelings,  burst  into  a 
paroxysm  of  violent  and  convulsive  weeping. 

Greatly  distressed  by  this  occurrence,  at  a  time  too  when  he  was  deeply  occupied 
with  other  matters,  and  when  his  presence  was  indeed  momentarily  called  for,  the 
marechal  looked  anxiously  about  him  for  a  moment  ere  he  spoke — then,  "  Monsieur 
de  Clairvilliers,"  he  cried,  turning  to  an  old  officer  of  very  high  rank,  "  you  are,  I  think, 
a  dear  friend  of  this  young  lady's  father ;  and  those  gray  hairs,  blanched  in  the  service 
of  two  kings  of  France,  may  well  defy  all  scandal.  Will  you  not,  with  our  good  Duke 
of  York  here,  taking  a  trumpet  with  you,  and  a  fit  escort,  lead  this  young  lady  to  Ville- 
neuve,  and  see  her  suited  with  apartments  and  proper  female  tendance  ?  Meanwhile, 
I  will  dispatch  a  message  to  the  Duke  of  Lorraine ;  and  our  good  friend  Laloge  'here 
will  spur  his  barbary  horse,  from  his  pure  love  of  the  fair  sex,  until  he  find  Sir  Henry 
Oswald,  and  conduct  him  to  his  fair  daughter."  The  gay  young  officer  bowed  low, 
and  darted  aw.ay  like  a  swallow  over  the  level  meads  in  the  direction  of  the  great  woods 
^o  the  right ;  while  Turenne,  taking  Isabella's  hand  in  his  own,  kissed  it  respectfully, 
and  said—"  And  now  farewell,  dear  lady— all  will  go  well— trust  me !  And  now  I  must 
beseech  you  to  excuse  me,  for  I  have  pressing  calls  upon  my  time ;  and  his  majesty 
must  not  have  reason  to  complain  that,  besides  pardoning  his  officers  for  disobeying 
orders,  all  for  the  bright  eyes  of  a  lovely  lady,  7,  his  commander  in  the  field,  neglect 
myself  his  service ;  even  although  the  cause  should  be  so  worthy  a  true  chevalier's 
devotion!" 

His  tone  of  badinage  did  much  to  reassure  her,  and  she  soon  wiped  her  tears  away, 
rod  was  assisted  to  her  horse  by  fye  young  prince  himself;  but  though  she  wept  n.o 


OR,     THE     MAID'S     HEVENGEc  113 

more,  she  was  extremely  grave  and  unwilling  to  converse,  replying  in  monosyllables  to 
such  remarks  as  were  addressed  to  her,  until  she  was  installed  in  safety  in  handsome 
lodgings  without  the  gates  of  Villeneuve  ;  when,  thanking  the  duke  and  the  other  gentle. 
men  who  had  accompanied  her,  she  expressed  a  wish  to  be  left  alone,  and  retired  to 
her  chamber,  there  to  reflect  upon  the  strange  events  of  the  past  days, 


CHAPTER    XXII. 

THERE  stood  in  those  times  a  small  ancient  castle,  a  part  of  which  was  believed  to  be 
the  work  of  the  Romans,  on  the  outskirts  of  Corbeil,  although  within  the  walls,  of 
which  indeed  it  formed  an  important  angle  ;  jutting  out  into  the  bosom  of  the  broad 
Seine,  and  partially  commanding  the  bridge,  which,  crossing  the  river,  formed  in  this 
place  the  grand  communication  between  the  Orleannois  and  the  Isle  de  France.  It 
was  old,  even  at  that  time,  and  has  long  ago  fallen  into  decay  so  total  that  there  are 
now  no  vestiges  to  be  seen,  even  of  its  foundations  ;  but  although  small,  it  was  then 
by  no  means  deficient  in  strength,  and,  having  been  repaired  quite  recently  and  mounted 
with  a  few  heavy  cannon,  it  had  been  garrisoned  for  some  time  past  by  a  small  detach, 
ment  of  artillerymen  and  a  squadron  of  light-horse  ;  the  town  being  occupied  by  a  whole 
regiment,  and  sometimes  even  a  stronger  force  of  infantry. 

From  these  circumstances,  and  from  its  isolated  position,  it  had  been  often  used  as  a 
sort  of  state  prison,  whether  for  officers  of  the  king's  party,  accused  of  any  serious 
breach  of  military  discipline,  or  for  such  prisoners  of  war  as  were  not  admitted  to  a 
parole  of  honor,  or  as  were  liable  to  charges  of  high  treason ;  and  to  its  walls  Wyvil 
and  Bellechassaigne  had  been  conducted  on  the  morning  of  the  advance  against  Ville- 
neuve. It  was  in  a  suite  of  apartments,  if  one  moderately  large  room,  with  too  light 
closets  containing  each  a  truckle-bed,  can  be  called  a  suite,  at  the  top  of  the  principal 
tower,  which  was  perhaps  something  better  than  a  hundred  feet  in  height,  that  the 
two  friends  were  confined.  Their  quarters,  had  they  not  been  designated  by  the  term 
prison,  a  term  capable  of  rendering  even  a  palace  hateful,  though  neither  large  nor 
sumptuously  furnished,  would  have  been  by  no  means  unpleasant ;  for,  owing  to  their 
elevation  above  the  paved  courtyard,  and  the  height  of  the  outward  walls,  the  windows 
were  not  barred ;  and,  from  the  situation  of  the  building,  projecting  far  out  into  the 
current  of  the  river,  they  commanded  an  extensive  view  over  the  richly  cultivated, 
although  somewhat  flat  expanse  of  the  Orleannois,  and  over  two  bright  reaches  of  the 
broad  winding  Seine.  Yet,  notwithstanding  this  advantage,  and  although  they  were 
attended  by  their  own  servants,  served  with  an  excellent  table,  and  permitted  the  use  of 
books  and  papers,  the  time  lagged  wearily  with  the  impatient  and  high-spirited  prison- 
ers ;  for  both  these  men,  however  different  in  other  points  of  view,  were  of  that  class, 
who,  like  Scottish  Douglas  of  remoter  times,  ever  preferred  the  green  fields  and  the  azure 
vaults  of  heaven,  to  the  soft  Persian  carpets  and  gold-fretted  roofs  of  those  luxurious 
days  ;  who  had  rather  hear  the  lark  sing  than  the  mouse  squeak,  as  the  old  borderer  had  it ; 
and  to  whom  life  itself,  though  coupled  to  every  charm  of  power  and  luxury  and  wealth, 
if  it  had  not  also  been  enlivened  by  change  and  peril  and  excitement,  would  have  been 
wearisome  and  odious.  The  first  long  day  wore  over,  and  that  perhaps  more  lightly 
than  could  have  been  expected,  for  there  was  something  of  an  adventure  even  in  their 
situation ;  something  to  excite  thought  and  create  surmise  ;  something  uncertain  and 
even  trifling  in  the  doubt  of  what  should  follow  after ;  that  strung  their  minds  to  a  high 
key,  and  rendered  them  in  some  sort  heedless  of  the  present.  But  when  the  second 
day  succeeded,  and  no  signs,  as  they  had  anticipated,  showed  themselves,  either  of  a 
court-martial,  or  of  a  summary  execution ;  their  minds  began  to  wax  uneasy,  and  their 
spirits  dull,  and  their  souls  heavy.  Soon  after  breakfast  Bellechassaigne  began  to  pace 
the  floor  with  quick,  irregular  strides,  pausing  occasionally  to  look  out  of  the  window 
over  the  wide  sunlighted  lanscape ;  and  turning  suddenly  away  with  a  brief,  bitter  curse. 


114  MARMADTTKE 

to  traverse  and  re  traverse  the  narrow  limits  of  the  chamber — and  so,  with  little  in. 
termission,  he  continued  during  the  whole  day,  answering  shortly  and  impatiently  to 
the  chance  words  of  his  companion  ;  and  hurrying  round  and  round  the  walls,  as  if  to 
seek  an  exit,  with  the  impatient  gestures  of  the  caged  hyena.  Meanwhile,  the  English 
exile,  no  less  disturbed  and  ill  at  ease  than  the  young  Frenchman,  displayed  the  disorder 
of  his  mind  in  a  way  as  different  as  possible  from  his  companion — he  had  sat  down  at 
a  small  table  by  the  window,  to  while  away  the  time  with  the  wild  conceit  and  strange 
fancies  of  the  Gargantua  of  Rabelais ;  bat,  though  for  the  first  half  hour  he  had  turned 
a  low  pages,  and  smiled  a  few  times,  and  once  even  laughed  aloud,  he  soon  lapsed  into 
the  depths  of  his  own  mind,  and  sat  there  quite  immoveable,  and  seemingly  uncon- 
scious of  all  external  things ;  with  his  brow  bent  into  a  gloomy  frown,  pondering  the  past, 
the  present,  and  the  future ;  turning  no  leaf,  reading  no  line  of  the  licentious  witty 
author,  until  afternoon  had  long  stricken,  and  the  servant  had  come  in  and  out,  and 
arranged  the  board  with  wine  and  meat  and  all  the  preparations  of  the  midday  meal, 
without  his  raising  so  much  as  an  eye  from  the  book  which  he  had  scarce  knew  to  be 
before  him — his  wilder  fellow-prisoner  slapped  him  on  the  shoulder,  and  burst  into  a 
loud  rallying  laugh. 

"  Despardieux  !  we  are  good  companions,  and  rare  fellows,  too,  to  call  ourselves  tried 
soldiers — particularly  you,  who  have  been  shut  up,  as  you  told  me,  for  weeks  together, 
without  fresh  air  or  daylight — to  take  on  thus  absurdly  for  a  few  days'  confinement  in 
good  quarters !  for  that,  I  trow,  will  be  the  worst  of  it." 

"Ay  !  that  is  it!"  answered  Wyvil,  a  little  wildly,  as  if  he  did  not  altogether  catch 
the  sense  of  Bellechassaigne's  words — "  that  is  just  it;  that  is  what  I  was  thinking  of." 

"  Well,  wake  up  then,  man ;  and  see  here  is  dinner  ready — they  mean  to  fatten  us,  I 
trow,  if  that  they  do  intend  to  kill  us !"  And  thus,  for  a  short  space,  they  both  shook  off 
the  presence  of  their  cares,  and  ate,  and  drank,  and  chatted  ;  ay  !  and  jested,  as  cheer- 
fully as  though  they  had  been  both  at  large — but  when  the  meal  was  finished,  after  a 
little  effort  to  sustain  a  laborious  conversation,  their  spirits  flagged  again,  and  both 
returned  to  their  occupations ;  the  partisan,  of  restless  and  excited  motion,  the  exile,  of 
deep,  painful  meditation.  Meanwhile  night  fell,  and  candles  were  lighted  in  the  prison 
chamber,  and,  at  Bellechassaigne's  bidding,  a  stoup  of  wine  and  glasses  were  set  upon 
the  board  ;  and  for  a  space,  the  two  companions  talked  cheerfully  enough  about  their 
future  prospects,  and  the  events  of  the  campaign ;  the  partisan  expressing  his  surprise 
that  they  had  heard  no  sounds  of  cannonading,  which — had  a  battle  taken  place  at  Vil- 
leneuve — they  could  not  have  failed  to  do,  and  drawing  from  the  fact  strong  cause  for 
apprehension  that  the  Duke  of  Lorraine  might  have  fallen  back  on  Charenton,  upon  the 
first  alarm,  and  actually  crossed  the  bridge  of  boats  before  Turenne  had  overtaken  him. 
While  they  were  eagerly  and  anxiously  discussing  this,  their  attention  was  attracted  by 
the  sounds  of  some  arrival,  which  created  a  considerable  bustle  in  the  courtyard  below. 
The  creaking  of  the  port  levis,  as  it  was  lowered,  the  drawing  of  the  hoarse  bolts,  and 
the  screaming  of  the  rusty  hinges,  was  succeeded  by  the  clatter  of  horses'  hoofs  upon 
the  bridge,  and  the  jingling  of  spurs  upon  the  pavement,  as  trooper  after  trooper  leaped 
from  his  saddle  ;  torches  were  seen  flashing  to  and  fro,  and  lusty  voices  heard  calling  for 
the  governor.  Amid  the  tumult,  the  prisoners  soon  detected,  as  with  every  sense  on  the 
alert,  they  listened  to  the  din  without,  the  words  repeated  many  times — "  News  from  the 
host — a  message  from  Turenne  1" — and  Bellechassaigne  had  just  turned  round  to  his 
companion,  exclaiming,  "  now,  then,  we  shall  soon  learn  our  fate !"  when  a  quick  step 
came  up  the  staircase,  and  along  the  corridor ;  and  instantly  the  door  of  their  prison 
was  thrown  open,  and  the  head  warden  entered  with  a  smile  on  his  countenance. 

"  I  bring  you  pleasant  tidings,"  he  said,  "  noble  gentlemen,  you  are  discharged  from 
my  custody — here  are  dispatches  from  the  army ;"  and  he  laid  two  documents,  addressed 
to  the  prisoners,  upon  the  table.  "  The  orders  for  your  release,"  he  added,  "  have  been 
received  in  due  form  from  the  marechal  himself,  and  you  can  set  forth  on  the  instant, 
if  it  please  you.  Monsieur  de  Flamarin,  with  a  party  of  light-horse,  awaits  you  at 
the  gales." 


OR,     THE    MAID'S     REVENGE.  115 

"  Lead  on,  then — lead  on !"  exclaimed  Wyvil ;  "  for  by  the  Lord  !  I  do  not  love  to 
breathe  the  air  of  a  jail,  a  moment  after  I  may  quit  it.  Your  orders  are  the  same  as 
mine,  I  fancy,  Bellechassaigne." 

"  A  simple  mandate,"  answered  the  partisan,  "  to  report  myself  at  the  head-quarters 
of  my  regiment  as  soon  as  may  be !" 

"  Precisely,"  replied  Wyvil ;  "  so  now — to  horse  I  to  horse  !  where  shall  we  find  our 
horses  and  our  varlets,  monsieur  warden?" 

"  They  have  been  cared  for,  gentlemen,"  answered  the  man  very  civilly ;  "  you  will 
find  them  below,  I  think,  by  this  time.  Monsieur  de  Flamarin  bade  us  send  for  them 
instantly,  when  he  arrived,  and  one  of  my  men  ran  down  with  his  orderly  to  the  Golden 
Lion,  where  they  were  sent  yesterday." 

No  time  of  course  was  wasted,  and  before  many  minutes  the  friends  were  in  the 
saddle,  and  away  toward  Villeneuve,  which  they  soon  learned  from  their  friendly  escort, 
had  been  evacuated  on  that  morning  by  Lorraine,  and  occupied  by  the  royal  army. 
Much  had  de  Flamarin  to  tell  them  of  the  operations  of  the  army,  of  the  repeated 
intercessions  in  their  behalf  by  the  young  English  duke,  and  by  Sir  Henry  Oswald  ; 
and,  last  not  least,  of  the  arrival  on  the  field  of  battle,  just  as  the  signal  was  on  the 
point  of  being  given,  of  a  young  lady,  who  had  ridden  all  night  through  to  win  their 
pardon  of  the  marechal.  He  had  not  himself  seen  her,  he  declared,  nor  did  he  know 
who  she  was  ;  but  all  the  camp,  he  said,  was  ringing  with  the  praises  of  her  strange 
loveliness,  the  exquisite  taste  and  jashion  of  her  dress,  her  superb  horsemanship,  and 
above  all,  her  high  and  dauntless  spirit,  in  traversing  the  midnight  roads  swarming  with 
the  licentious  followers  of  the  host ;  in  riding  up  to  the  very  muzzles  of  the  enemy's 
cannon,  even  then  about  to  open,  and  in  defying,  as  it  was  said  she  did,  the  great 
Turenne,  when  at  the  head  of  the  king's  forces.  Both  the  companions,  of  course, 
instantly  suspected  who  was  the  lady  that  had  interposed  to  save  them  ;  and  sundry 
were  the  questions  which  both  put  to  de  Flamarin ;  but  all  that  they  could  learn  was, 
that  she  was  tall  and  of  an  extreme  loveliness,  and  that  it  was  reported  she  had  ventured 
so  much  for  the  love  of  the  English  cavalier. 

"  I  told  you  so,"  exclaimed  Bellechassaigne,  with  a  gay  ringing  laugh — "  did  I  not 
tell  you  so,  the  night  before  last,  Wyvil  ?  It  all  comes  of  your  luck,  man,  in  charging 
home  with  a  velvet  coat  on  instead  of  a  greasy  elk-skin  cassock  and  a  steel-harness.  I 
knew  no  female  heait  in  France  could  resist  that  passmented  pourpoint,  and  the 
feathered  hat !  By  Heaven !  I'll  charge  in  my  shirt  the  very  next  chance  I  get,  but 
I'll  outdo  you !" 

But  Wyvil  answered  nothing  to  his  friend's  raillery,  seeming  to  be  absorbed  in  deep 
and  serious  meditation ;  and  it  was  observed,  and  commented  upon  by  both  his  com- 
rades, that  he  was  unduly  grave  and  almost  sad  during  the  whole  of  their  ride  to  head- 
quarters. De  Flamarin,  however,  replied  instantly — 

"  No,  you  won't — not  a  bit  of  it,  Bellechassaigne.  I  heard  the  marechal  himself  tell 
his  highness  of  York,  that  he  should  sentence  you  to  serve  the  whole  campaign  in  the 
front  of  your  regiment,  with  your  sword  in  the  scabbard ;  and  you  know  he's  a  man  to 
keep  his  word  1" 

"  I  know  he  is,  de  Flamarin,"  said  Bellechassaigne,  still  laughing ;  "  and  you  know 
too,  that  I  am  not  exactly  one  to  forfeit  mine — so,  trust  me,  if  he  sentence  me  to  that,  I 
will  serve  in  a  shirt  over  my  uniform  instead  of  a  cuirass ;  and,  if  my  sword  be  nailed 
fast  to  my  scabbard,  why  I  must  have  three  inches  added  to  the  length  of  my  dagger, 
and  trust  to  that  and  my  pistols  in  the  melee." 

De  Flamarin  was  not  slow  to  reply,  and  though  Wyvil  continued  silent  and  abstracted 
all  the  time,  the  march  through  the  dark  woods  was  still  enlivened  with  loud  merriment, 
and  now  and  then  a  song,  until  they  reached  the  outposts  of  the  army,  which  had  been 
pushed  nearly  a  league  in  advance  of  the  bridge  over  the  Hyere,  on  the  road  toward 
Corbeil,  to  guard  against  the  possibility  of  any  movement  on  the  part  of  Conde,  who  it 
was  apprehended,  might  cross  the  Seine,  and  attack  the  rear  of  the  king's  army.  The 
first  intelligence  they  had  of  the  existence  of  such  a  picquet — it  had  in  fact  been  posted 


116  MARMADTTKE 

after  de  Flamarin  had  left  Villeneuve,  in  consequence  of  the  appearance  of  the  prince's 
vanguard  on  the  other  side  the  river,  which  had  come  up  in  less  than  an  hour  after  the 
duke  had  abandoned  his  position  and  begun  to  retreat — was  the  glare  of  a  watch-fire, 
lighted  by  the  road-side  on  the  crest  of  the  hill  so  often  mentioned,  and  the  loud  hum 
of  many  voices.  No  sentinel,  it  seemed,  had  been  thrown  out  by  the  officer  of  the 
picquet,  and  very  little  of  precaution  taken  to  guard  against  surprise ;  from  which,  how- 
ever, the  nature  of  the  ground  in  some  degree  protected  them.  What  was,  however 
even  more  blameworthy,  so  loud  and  jocund  was  their  revelry,  that  it  entirely  drownea 
the  noise  which  the  other  party  made  in  approaching^  until  they  had  come  so  near  that 
they  might  see  the  whole  of  the  picquet;  which  consisted  of  cavaliers  of  Lord  Bristol's 
English  horse,  and  two  or  three  officers  of  the  French  guard,  all  of  them,  even  to  the 
privates,  gentlemen  of  blood  and  honorable  lineage.  To  this  it  was  attributable,  that  no 
distinction  was  made  of  rank  or  dignity  as  they  sat  revelling  round  the  fire,  while  many 
a  flask  went  round,  and  the  old  forest  rang  with  their  bacchanalian  glee. 

Bellechassaigne,  ever  full  of  broad  wit  and  wild  humor,  entreated  de  Flamarin  to  halt 
his  party,  and  steal  up  quietly,  and  so  surprise  the  revellers ;  and  he  assenting,  as  they 
crept  up  among  the  bushes  between  the  feasters  and  their  arms,  which  they  had  stacked 
at  a  little  distance  in  the  rear,  the  following  words  met  their  ears,  loudly  chanted  by  a 
mellow  though  untaught  voice,  and  were  followed  by  a  jovial  chorus  of  applause,  that 
might  have  been  heard  far  and  wide  in  the  silent  midnight. 

Trowl,  trowl  the  brown  bowl—  Wine,  wine !  comrades  mine, 
Merrily  trowl  it,  ho  !  In  wine  the  pledge  must  be, 

For  the  nut-brown  ale  shall  never  fail,  When  drink  the  brave,  '  to  a  soldier's  grave, 
However  the  seasons  go.  Or  a  soldier's  victory !' 

Drink,  drink  !  he  who'll  slink  Hence,  hence  with  all  offence, 
When  circling  goblets  flow,  Though  foes  of  old  were  we ! 

That  knave,  I  swear,  will  never  dare,  Our  future  life  shall  know  no  strife, 
Like  a  man,  to  meet  the  foe.  But  who  shall  foremost  be  ! 

Then  steep,  steep  your  souls  deep  Then  up !  up !  with  each  cup, 
In  the  wassail-cup  to-night ;  From  whatever  land  are  ye— 

For  the  next  day-spring  shall  surely  bring  Whether  knights  of  the  lance,  from  merry  France, 
The  dry  and  sober  fight.  Or  old  England's  archers  free. 

CHORUS.  CHORUS 

Trowl,  trowl  the  brown  bowl—  Wine,  wine  !  comrades  mine, 
Merrily  trowl  it,  ho !  In  wine  the  pledge  must  be, 

For  the  nut-brown  ale  shall  never  fail,  When  drink  the  brave,  '  to  a  soldier's  grave. 
However  the  seasons  go.  Or  a  soldier's  victory !' 

So  loud  and  long  was  the  burst  of  acclamation  that  followed  this  characteristic  mel- 
ody, and  so  completely  were  all  hearts  taken  up  with  it,  that  Bellechassaigne  and  de 
Flamarin  saw  their  opportunity,  and  springing  forward  so  as  to  cut  the  party  off  from 
their  fire-arms,  shouted  to  them  "  to  surrender  on  the  instant,  or  they  were  all  dead 
men !"  bidding  their  own  men,  at  the  same  time,  "  level  their  carbines  and  take  aim  ;" 
but,  although  taken  by  surprise,  beset  and  surrounded,  not  one  of  the  picquet  dreamed* 
of  yielding. 

"  Draw  your  swords,  boys,"  cried  the  singer,  springing  to  his  feet  and  unsheathing 
with  one  motion  his  poniard  and  his  rapier — "  draw,  and  fall  on  !  there  be  but  a  score 
of  them."  And  he  was  bounding  forward  to  the  charge,  when  a  loud  shout  of  laughter, 
and  the  cry  "  Friends  !  Turenne !  Turenne  !"  arrested  them,  and  all  was  for  a  few 
minutes  loud  and  wild  confusion  ;  but  when  this  ceased — 

"  You  keep  good  watch,"  exclaimed  de  Flamarin  ;  "  and  lucky  is  it  for  ye,  that  we 
were  not  the  rounds  ;  as  it  is,  ye  are  mulcted  in  a  flask  of  wine,  which  we  will  discuss 
presently — and  then  to  horse  again — but,  if  you  will  take  my  advice,  you  will  detach 
some  two  or  three  videttes ;  for  I  esteem  it  very  like  that  some  of  the  generals  will  go 
the  circuit  of  the  posts  between  this  time  and  morning  !" 

"You're  in  the  right  of  it, there,"  answered  the  captain  of  the  party  ;  "so  Mainwar- 
ing  and  Digby,  take  up  your  carbines,  and  be  off  and  post  yourselves  a  hundred  yards 
apart,  down  the  hill  side — I  will  relieve  you  in  an  hour — here  is  the  wine — but  will  you 
not  sit  down  and  join  us — " 


OR,     THE     MAID'S     REVENGE.  117 

"  No,  no  :  we  must  away,  else  worse  will  come  of  it,"  Bellechassaigne  made  reply ; 
"  so  here's  to  your  good  health,  fair  comrades — and  a  light  watch  to  ye — and  may  ye 
'scape  the  provost  marshal!,  as  well  as  we  have  done — Wyvil  and  I— for  by  my  life,  I 
hoped  for  nothing  better  than  to  be  shot  to-morrow  morning !" 

"  Well,  if  you  had  been,"  answered  de  Flamarin,  laughing,  "  that  were  a  better  fate 
than  the  soothsayer  foretold  me  at  the  siege  of  Etampes." 

"  Why,  what  was  that,  de  Flamarin  ?"  asked  one  of  the  English  cavaliers. 
"  Oh  !  that  I  should  die  with  a  rope  about  my  neck,"  he  replied  laughing. 
"  By  St.  George !  but  that's  pleasant,"  exclaimed  one. 

"  Yes ;  and  probable  too,"  answered  Bellechassaigne,  "  when  he  has  the  privilege 
of  decapitation,  in  right  of  his  nobility." 

"  A  mighty  pretty  privilege  that,  on  my  honor,"  replied  an  Irish  trooper  of  the  regi- 
ment of  Clare  ;  "  that's  a  prerogative  now,  I'm  not  over  anxious  to  be  earning — but, 
praise  be  to  the  saints,  for  that  same  !  they  can't  make  me  out  to  be  noble,  anyway" — 
and  in  the  shout  of  laughter  which  chorussed  this  naive  observation,  the  others  mounted 
and  rode  away ;  and  without  any  more  adventures,  made  their  way  safely  to  head- 
quarters. 

Several  days  elapsed,  after  this,  without  the  occurrence  of  any  event  of  importance ; 
Wyvil  and  Bellechassaigne  having  rejoined  the  corps  to  which  they  were  attached,  and 
quietly  resumed  their  duties,  no  notice  being  taken  whatever,  of  their  conduct,  either 
by  the  marechal  in  person,  or  by  their  own  immediate  superiors.     The  count,  mean- 
while was  at  St.  Denis — the  citizens  of  the  metropolis,  divided  among  themselves, 
and  pretty  equally  balanced  between  the  causes  of  the  cardinal  and  princes,  holding 
themselves  in  a  sort  of  disaffected  mutuality,  with  their  gates  closed,  and  refusing  in- 
gress to  either  party  ;  and  it  was  soon  understood  by  the  gentlemen,  whom  her  decided 
and  impetuous  activity  had  preserved  from  the  disgrace  of  a  court-martial,  that  Isabella 
Oswald  was  in  attendance  there  on  the  queen  mother,  Anne  of  Austria.     Thus  for 
some  days  no  intercourse  could  possibly  take  place  between  the  English  cavalier  and 
the  lady,  in  behalf  of  whom  his  heart  was  hourly  declining  from  its  allegiance  to  another. 
This  fact,  however — as  often  is  the  case  in  the  commencement  at  least  of  attach- 
ments, before  the  first  romance  of  incipient  passion  has  been  dissipated  by  too.  familiar 
intercourse — tended,  as  it  would  seem,  only  to  fix  the  wavering  mind  of  the  young  sol- 
dier more  steadily  upon  the  wild,  high-spirited  and  head-strong  beauty,  whose  every 
charm  was  seen  through  the  misty  veil  which  absence  casts  upon  remembrance,  exag- 
gerating, like  the  haze  of  the  spectral  Brocken,  in  proportion  as  it  renders  indistinct, 
the  outlines  of  whatever  it  enshrines  in  its  poetical  and  visionary  fold.     Day  after  day, 
the  more  he  shunned  his  comrades,  wrapping  his  soul  in  deep  abstraction,  and  giving 
every  minute  he  could  spare  from  his  military  duties  to  wild  and  whirling  fantasies. 
It  must  not  be  imagined  yet,  that  no  thought  of  the  fair  and  gentle  being  to  whom  he 
had  now  begun  to  meditate  so  foul  disloyalty,  was  intruded  on  his  waking  dreams ;  for 
it  was  to  no  lack  of  kind  or  honorable  impulses,  but  to  want  of  steadiness,  of  direct  per- 
severing energy,  of  overruling  principle,  that  the  defection  of  the  young  man  was  attri- 
butable.    In  the  early  moments  of  his  new  fascination,  the  sweet  calm  face  of  Alice 
would  constantly  recur  to  his  mind,  and  as  often  as  it  did  so,  the  pure  and  maidenly 
loveliness  of  her  character,  its  thoughtfulness,  its  absolute  neglect  of  self,  its  charity 
toward  the  faults  of  others,  and  above  all,  its  feminine  devotedness  of  love  toward  him- 
self smote  deeply  on  his  repentant  spirit.     But — alas  for  human  nature  !  too  true  it  is, 
that  when  we  have  once  admitted  evil  thoughts  to  be  our  counsellors  ;  when  we  have 
once  listened  to  the  voice  of  the  charmer,  who,  alas  !  ever  charms  too  wisely ;  unless 
we  banish  the  dark  spirit  instantly,  by  one  strong  effort,  so  that  he  never  shall  return  at 
all — the  pleadings  of  the  conscience  wear  weaker  still  at  every  iteration,  till  they  are 
drowned  wholly  by  the  trumpet-tongue  of  passion — the  whispers  of  the  false  one,  whom 
we  have  suffered  to  become  the  second  time  a  visitant,  recur  more  frequently,  gain 
strength  at  each  recurrence,  until  he  has  become  the  lord  and  tyrant  of  our  bosoms. 


118  MARMADtTKE 

And  so  it  was  with  Wyvil — he  was  from  his  birth  upward,  preeminently  subject  to  that 
"  one  touch  of  nature"  which,  as  the  great  poet  of  the  human  heart  has  written, 

Makes  the  whole  world  kin— 
That  all  with  one  consent  praise  new-born  gauds, 
Though  they  are  made  and  moulded  of  things  past ; 
And  give  to  dust,  that  is  a  little  gilt, 
More  laud  than  gilt  o'erdusted. 

To  this  he  owed  it,  in  the  first  place,  that  he  became  so  readily,  although  so  worthily, 
enamored  of  Alice  Selby — to  this  he  owed  it,  too,  that,  when  she  was  afar,  and  a  fresh 
"  Cynthia  of  the  minute"  was  brought  upon  the  stage,  his  "  present  eye"  was  prompt  upon 
the  instant  "  to  praise  the  present  object."  Moreover,  so  unsteady  was  the  right  prin- 
ciple within  him,  so  little  had  he  of  the  stern  obstinate  determination  to  do  well,  let 
what  may  come  of  it,  that,  though  his  good  impulses  at  first  leaped  out  unbidden  to  do 
battle  for  the  absent,  he  yet  impelled  the  tempter  with  so  little  energy  in  the  first  onset, 
and  suffered  him  so  soon  to  make  another  and  another  charge,  that  almost  ere  he  knew 
it  the  lodgement  was  effected  and  the  old  garrison  expelled — now  in  its  turn  to  attack, 
but  as  a  faint  and  ineffectual  antagonist,  the  citadel  which  had  so  treacherously  yielded. 
It  had  by  this  time  therefore  come  to  pass,  that  although  thoughts  of  Alice  Selby  would 
still  at  times  sweep  back  to  his  false  heart,  they  were  now  thrust  aside  by  a  mental  effort, 
as  most  unwelcome  and  intrusive  visitors;  for  the  voice  of  remonstrance,  never  too 
welcome  to  humanity,  when  it  has  been  once  hushed,  though  it  may  rouse  itself  again 
and  again,  is  listened  to  each  time  with  less  attention — greater  reluctance — till  the  object 
itself,  which  gives  rise  to  the  self-reproval,  becomes  by  association  itself  hateful  and 
repulsive.  Through  all  these  processes,  then,  had  the  mind  of  Wyvil  passed,  since  the 
day  on  which  he  had  so  accidentally  assisted  Isabella  Oswald.  From  having  his  soul 
full  of  remembrance,  and  of  such  affection  for  Alice  Selby  as  he  was  capable  of  feeling 
— with  now  and  then  a  strange  and  passing  thought  of  Isabella  intruding  itself,  and 
repulsed  faintly — he  had  come  to  ponder  all  day  long  on  the  charms  and  perfections  of 
the  latter,  on  the  chances  of  winning  so  bright  and  beautiful  a  prize,  and  on  the  means 
of  recommending  himself  the  most  effectually  to  her  favor  ;  while,  if  the  half-reproachful 
face  of  Alice  was  summoned  for  a  moment  by  his  guilty  conscience,  to  look  into  his 
very  eyes,  it  was  dismissed  at  once  by  the  most  rigorous  and  resolute  exertion  of  voli- 
tion. Yet  even,  \vhen  this  was  the  case,  it  could  not  have  been  said  of  him  truly,  that 
he  had  resolved  to  aim  at  gaining  Isabella's  love,  or  to  act  with  base  treachery  to  Alice. 
The  fact  was  simply  this;  that  he  was  too  indolent,  too  irresolute  of  mind,  to  determine 
anything ;  that  he  left  himself  voluntarily  like  a  boat  cast  on  the  billows  oarless  and  rud- 
derless, to  float  which  way  soever  the  stormy  winds  of  passion  or  the  capricious  tides  of 
fortune  should  waft  him  devious  on  the  sea  of  life. 

He  had  thus  far  become  a  traitor — that  he  had  willingly  permitted  treason  to  grow 
into  the  continual  and  licensed  subject  of  his  meditations.  And  who  is  he  of  mortals 
that,  having  once  admitted  the  evil  one  to  be  the  guide  of  his  steps,  the  prompter  of 
his  secret  thoughts,  can  say  to  him,  "  thus  far  shalt  thou  direct  my  footsteps,  thus  far 
shalt  thou  advise  my  soul — thus  far — thus  only  ?"  Several  days  elapsed,  and  the  troops 
of  Turenne  halted  inactive  at  Villeneuve,  but  this  pause  of  seeming  indecision  was  des- 
tined to  be  of  short  duration  ;  for  the  great  leader,  having  learned  that  beyond  doubt  the 
Duke  of  Lorraine  had  retired  beyond  the  frontiers,  determined  to  resume  the  offensive, 
and  act  against  the  prince  of  Conde,  the  only  enemy  now  in  the  field  against  him,  with 
vigorous  decision.  Accordingly,  be  broke  up  his  encampment  on  the  twenty-first  day  of 
June,  and  marching  northeasterly  by  slow  degrees  to  Ligny,  he  there  crossed  the  Marne, 
and  turning  westward  thence  arrived  on  the  second  of  July,  and  encamped  at  La  Chev- 
rette,  a  little  village  about  a  league  distant  from  St.  Denis  en  the  east  side  of  the  Seine  ;  the 
prince  of  Conde,  who  had  vainly  quitted  Etampes  in  the  hope  of  effecting  a  junction 
with  Lorraine,  being  posted  a  little  higher  up  the  river,  on  the  opposite  side,  at  St. 
Cloud.  Both  armies  were  prepared  in  earnest  for  a  general  action,  for  on  the.  very  day 
of  his  arrival,  Turenne  began  to  bridge  the  Seine  in  several  places,  which  is  here  very 
wide  and  interspersed  with  islands  j  and  Conde  hastened  to  oppose  him.  Continued 


OR,     THE     MAID'S     REVENGE.  119 

skirmishes,  and  constant  cannonading  now  took  place ;  and  every  opportunity  that 
could  be  fancied  was  afforded  for  deeds  of  desperate  and  daring  partisanship — and  what 
would  seem  most  strange  in  these  days,  but  was  then  deemed  nothing  unusual  or 
remarkable,  the  residence  of  the  court  being  so  near  the  scene  of  action,  parties  of  gay 
non-combatants  were  constantly  made  up  to  ride  or  drive  down  to  the  eminences  over- 
looking the  scene  of  strife  ;  so  that  scarcely  an  hour  of  the  day  passed  without  some 
gorgeous  cavalcade,  with  gilded  carriages  and  bright  liveries,  and  even  ladies  of  high 
rank  among  the  number,  being  seen  literally  in  the  line  of  fire  ;  while  it  was  scarcely 
a  less  singular  feature  of  the  times  thftt  in  the  middle  of  a  war  of  rebellion  and  civil 
discord,  all  extreme  points  of  courtesy  were  insisted  upon  with  ihe  minutest  etiquette; 
so  that  in  fact  there  was  little  danger  to  the  fair  and  gay  amateurs  except  from  a  chance 
shot,  or  spent  ball,  which  would  now  and  then  come  ricocheting  through  the  dust,  and 
set  them  all  a  scampering.  It  will  be  readily  imagined  that,  with  a  field  like  this  before 
them,  such  men  as  Bellechassaigne  and  Wyvil  were  constantly  devising  some  new  deed 
of  daring ;  vieing  with  one  another  in  every  sort  of  hazardous  and  wild  excitement,  and 
setting  all  the  young  spirits  of  both  armies  in  a  flame  with  martial  rivalry.  Day  by  day, 
night  by  night,  sometimes  together,  but  ofterier  apart,  they  were  for  ever  in  the  saddle 
— now  cutting  off  a  convoy,  now  capturing  a  picquet,  now  making  a  general  officer  in 
his  own  quarters  prisoner  and  carrying  him  off  by  surprise,  till  every  eye  was  fixed  upon 
them  in  astonishment  and  admiration. 

Several  times,  while  engaged  in  scouring  the  country  in  search  of  some  adventure, 
Marmaduke  had  encountered  Isabella,  riding  upon  her  fiery  English  horse,  to  the  envy 
and  surprise  of  the  Parisian  dames,  escorted  by  her  father,  and  surrounded  ever  by  the 
noblest  and  most  fashionable  idlers  of  the  court ;  but  though  no  opportunity  was  given 
for  more  than  a  passing  glance  and  hasty  salutation— for  Wyvil  was  at  all  times  upon 
duty — still  so  deep  was  the  blush  that  still  accompanied  the  lady's  greeting,  so  marked 
and  speaking  was  the  glance  that  seemed  to  linger  on  her  features,  that  he  could 
scarcely  doubt  but  that  he  had  awakened  something  of  interest  already  in  her  bosom  ; 
that  he  was  stirred  to  aim  at  winning  some  higher  token  of  regard,  by  wilder  and  more 
desperate  exploits.  Meantime  Turenne,  whose  working  parties  had  been  much  an- 
noyed by  the  interruption  of  the  enemy,  posted  the  two  foot  regiments  of  Laferte  on  an 
island  in  the  river,  somewhat  more  elevated  than  the  opposite  shore,  to  the  point  01 
which  the  bridge  was  in  process  of  construction,  and  by  this  able  movement  prevented 
the  light  troops  of  Condfc  from  harassing  his  workers,  hand  to  hand,  as  they  had  done 
in  the  first  instance.  So  great  was  the  advantage  which  the  royalists  gained  by  this 
disposition,  that,  on  the  following  morning,  the  princes  seemed  disposed  to  make  a  gen- 
eral attack,  several  heavy  corps  of  foot  having  been  seen  at  an  early  hour  moving  with 
horse  and  cannon  toward  the  point  in  question.  It  was  as  beautiful  a  morning  as  could 
be  imagined  ;  the  country  all  arrayed  in  the  richest  green  of  summer,  the  fields  enam- 
elled with  ten  thousand  wild  flowers,  that  perfumed  every  breath  of  the  soft,  mild  west 
wind ;  the  great  sun  laughing  out  of  the  azure  skies,  and  filling  the  earth  and  air  with 
warmth  and  lustre.  The  scene,  too,  was  of  the  most  delightful — the  meadow  banks  of 
the  blue  Seine,  with  sloping  eminences,  wood-crowned,  and  decked  with  hanging  vine, 
yards,  on  either  hand ;  and  all  the  rich  and  cultivated  champagne,  with  hundreds  of 
white  villages,  and  here  and  there  the  grand  and  massive  towers  of  palaces  and  abbeys, 
lying  stretched  out,  broad,  bright  and  beautiful,  to  the  far  distance  ;  while  to  the  left 
hand  of  the  gorgeous  landscape,  loomed  up  the  dark  magnificence  of  the  metropolis, 
with  all  its  piles  of  antique  masonry.  What  wonder,  then,  that  all  the  gay  court  in- 
sects were  abroad,  to  gaze  upon  the  pageantry  and  pomp  of  the  approaching  conflict. 
In  a  small  meadow,  near  the  bridge,  sat  Turenne  on  his  charger,  surrounded  by  his 
staff,  calmly  observing  the  advancement  of  his  works,  and  the  movements  of  the  ap- 
proaching enemy.  Before  him,  to  the  left  hand,  lay  the  island  occupied  by  the  infantry 
of  Laferte,  with  their  bright  armor  and  tall  standards ;  behind  him,  on  a  little  eminence, 
commanding  the  river  and  part  of  the  opposite  banks,  was  a  long  line  of  cannon,  with 
the  artillerymen  and  cannoneers  busily  pointing  them  upon  the  heads  of  the  enemy's 


l20  MARMADTTKE     WYVIL; 

advance  ;  and  in  the  low  fields  to  his  right,  many  small  bands  of  horse  were  wheeling 
to  and  fro,  distinguished  from  each  other  by  many-colored  scarfs  and  fluttering  pennons, 
and  the  cassocks  of  their  partisan  commanders.  The  mass  of  the  royal  army  was,  for 
the  most  part,  concealed  by  the  low  range  of  hills  on  which  the  cannon  were  disposed, 
although  the  heads  of  their  pikes,  glittering  in  the  sunshine,  and  the  tops  of  their  en- 
signs  shining  above  the  trees  and  hedges,  showed  that  they  were  in  force  and  close  at 
hand,  should  they  be  needed ;  while,  to  complete  the  picture,  scarcely  a  pistol  shot 
behind  the  cannon  of  the  royalists,  three  of  the  king's  carriages  were  stationed,  with 
their  bright  train  of  liveried  attendants  and  magnificently  appareled  courtiers,  among 
whom  were  preeminent  the  distinguished  forms  of  sir  Henry  Oswald  and  his  unrivalled 
daughter. 

i  Two  or  three  shots  had  been  fired  from  the  royal  cannon,  which,  though  they  had 
done  no  real  damage,  had  already  checked  the  advance  of  the  prince's  columns ;  for 
these  had  not  been  supported  by  artillery,  so  that  it  began  to  appear  doubtful  whether 
anything  of  consequence  would  take  place  that  day ;  and  the  fair  amateurs  were  even 
beginning  to  display  some  such  feelings,  as  would  be  now  called  forth  by  the  non-ap- 
pearance on  the  stage  of  some  popular  tragedian,  whose  announcement  had  called  them 
thither — when,  suddenly,  a  small  party  of  perhaps  two  hundred  fantassins,  rushed  down 
from  the  main  body  with  such  rapidity,  as  set  at  nought  the  fire  of  the  artillery  which 
opened  on  them  furiously  as  they  came  ;  and  took  up  a  position  behind  the  brow  of  a 
little  sloping  hill,  which  sheltered  them  entirely  from  cannon  shot.  It  evidently  was 
impossible  to  drive  them  from  that  post  by  any  missiles  then  in  use,  for,  although  bomb- 
shells had  been  introduced  in  the  attack  of  towns,  the  management  of  mortars  was  so 
little  understood,  that  hardly  any  aim  could  be  taken ;  and  this  was  the  more  to  be 
regretted,  that  they  kept  up  so  terrible  a  fire  on  the  regiments  which  held  the  island, 
not  being  above  a  hundred  yards  from  the  river  bank,  that  the  men  might  be  seen  fall- 
ing by  scores  at  every  volley  from  their  unseen  assailants  ;  and  that  the  working  parties 
ran  in,  unable  to  sustain  the  constant  and  well-aimed  discharge.  Meanwhile,  a  dozen 
squadrons  of  dragoons  moved  down,  and  drew  themselves  up  in  line  of  battle,  a  little 
way  in  the  rear  of  the  fantassins  ;  while  several  regiments  of  foot  came  winding  down 
a  hollow  way  to  the  left,  as  if  with  the  intent  to  cross  over  to  the  island  under  the  cover 
of  their  ambushed  tirailleurs. 

The  brow  of  Turenne  grew  dark  as  night ;  and,  in  a  moment,  a  cavalier  went  at  full 
gallop  from  his  side  to  the  artillerymen,  who  instantly  commenced  a  furious  cannonade 
upon  the  horse  in  the  rear,  which  were  exposed  to  their  fire,  and  within  half  an  hour 
forced  them  to  fall  back  to  a  mile's  distance ;  although  they  did  so  most  reluctantly, 
making  two  or  three  different  attempts  to  rally  at  successive  intervals,  and  losing  nearly 
a  third  of  their  number,  before  they  gave  up  the  point.  Still  the  foot-soldiers  continued 
undisturbed  behind  the  hill,  and  poured  their  balls  in  an  incessant  stream  of  quick 
glancing  fire  into  the  dense  ranks  of  Laferte,  which  had  no  means  of  returning  the 
discharge  by  which  they  were  so  cruel  sufferers.  For  this  there  seemed  no  remedy : 
and  now  the  marfcchal  was  on  the  point  of  sending  an  order  to  the  relics  of  those 
regiments  to  abandon  the  island,  until  such  time  as  he  could  erect  breast-works  during 
the  night  to  cover  them,  when,  on  a  sudden,  one  of  the  troops,  which  have  been  men- 
tioned as  wheeling  to  and  fro  in  the  meadows  on  the  right  like  birds  of  prey  seeking 
to  swoop,  came  up  at  a  light  canter  to  the  general's  station.  This  little  handful,  for,  in 
truth,  it  was  no  more,  consisted  but  of  fifty  men  besides  their  leader ;  but  they  were 
mounted,  one  and  all,  on  fine  gray  horses,  with  headpieces  and  corslets  of  clear  polished 
steel ;  and  were  distinguished  from  all  other  parties  of  the  kind,  as  well  by  the  exqui- 
site finish  of  their  whole  equipment,  as  by  their  parti-colored  plumes  and  scarfs,  which, 
like  the  pennons  that  waved  over  them,  were  singularly  blended  of  bright  blue  and  yel- 
low, with  fringes  and  embroidery  of  silver.  The  officer  who  led  them  was  a  tall  slen- 
der youth,  with  a  profusion  of  light  curls  falling  down  from  beneath  his  helmet,  and  a 
buff  coat  superbly  laced  with  silver,  instead  of  a  cuirass,  crossed  by  a  silken  baldric  of 
the  same  colors  as  those  borne  by  hia  retainers,  The  cloud  passed  partially  away 


6ft,     ?HE     MAID'S     REVENGE.  121 

from  the  brow  of  the  marechal,  as  he  observed  the  movement  of  this  party,  and  he 
even  told  the  orderly  whom  he  was  just  dispatching  to  the  regiments  of  La  Ferte,  to 
await  further  orders,  observing,  with  a  half  smile,  to  the  Duke  of  York,  who  stood 
beside  him — "  Now  then,  I  fancy,  we  shall  have  some  strange  proposition  from  yon 
dare-devil,  though  what  it  can  be  is  beyond  my  guess,  to  dislodge  those  accursed  fan- 
tassins  who  are  playing  havoc  with  our  men  yonder !  By  heaven  !  if  he  succeeds,  it 
shall  go  hard  with  me,  but  I  will  have  amends  made  to  him,  where  best  he'll  value  it. 
Let  us  hear  what  he  has  got  to  say,  duke  ;"  and,  as  he  spoke,  he  moved  his  horse  a 
little  way  from  his  staff,  to  meet  the  partisan  ;  while  a  loud  murmur  of  applause,  not 
unlike  that  which  often  greets  a  favorite  actor,  rose  from  the  concourse  of  spectators, 
who  seemed  to  anticipate  some  high  gratification  from  one  so  much  renowned  already 
for  his  extravagant  and  dashing  valor.  Halting  his  band  at  some  short  distance,  the 
young  man  rode  up  to  the  marechal,  and  humbly  asked  permission  to  swim  across  the 
river  with  his  men,  and  bring  away  the  marksmen  who  were  so  much  annoying  the 
infantry  upon  the  island. 

"  Bring  them  away,  Captain  Wyvil  ?  "  exclaimed  Turenne  ;  "  I  am  sure  I  shall  be 
much  obliged  to  you  if  you  will ;  but,  for  my  life,  I  cannot  see  how  you  will  set  about  it  I" 

"  There  is  a  large  bark  there,  your  excellency,"  answered  Marmaduke,  pointing  to  a 
little  cove  on  the  opposite  side,  where  a  vessel  of  some  five-and-twenty  tons  was  moored 
to  a  rude  dock  ;  "  my  head  upon  it  that  we  bring  them  if  you  will  but  permit  the  guns 
to  cover  us  as  we  return." 

"  Well,  sir,"  replied  the  merechal,  "  I  give  you  my  permission — the  guns  shall  open 
as  soon  as  you  turn  back  toward  the  shore  ;  see  to  that,  will  you,  Dunmont,"  he  added, 
looking  to  a  young  subaltern  of  his  staff,  who  rode  away  to  the  cannoneers  immediately. 
Wyvil  bowed  low  and  looked  much  gratified,  as  he  received  the  answer  of  Turenne ; 
and,  instantly  leaving  rejoined  his  men,  addressed  a  few  words  to  them,  which  they 
received  with  a  loud  cheer,  and  put  their  horses  at  once  to  a  hand-gallop ;  while  all  the 
cortege  on  the  hill  began  to  move  down  nearer  to  the  river  in  the  anticipation  of  some 
animated  spectacle.  Nor  were  they  disappointed — for  just  as  his  band  began  to  gallop, 
Wyvil  dashed  to  their  head,  and  seizing  his  pennon  from  the  hand  of  the  bearer,  led 
them  at  a  tremendous  pace  across  the  meadow  to  a  spot  where  the  bank  shelved  grad- 
ually to  the  river,  showing  a  hard  and  gravelly  soil.  It  scarcely  seemed  a  moment 
before  he  reached  the  brink,  and  giving  his  good  horse  the  spur,  was  in  deep  water — 
his  troopers  setting  up  another  loud  cheer,  as  he  rose  from  the  stream,  which  had  at  first 
almost  ingulfed  him,  and  following  without  a  second's  hesitation.  The  river  was  both 
broad  and  deep ;  and  though  not  swift,  the  current  swept  along  in  dark  and  turbid 
eddies,  and  it  required  the  utmost  strength  and  skill  in  horse  and  rider  to  stem  its 
powerful  tide.  Yet  not  one  charger  failed — one  trooper  faltered  !  The  regiments  upon 
the  island,  now  seeing  the  intention  of  the  movement,  set  up  the  cry  of  France,  known 
for  so  many  ages — their  cry  upon  the  battle  plain,  or  at  the  festive  board,  in  the  ex- 
tremity  of  peril,  or  in  their  height  of  rapture — "  Vive  le  roi !  vive  le  roi !"  and  the  heart- 
stirring  deep  hurrah  of  the  few  English  cavaliers  responded  to  the  mighty  acclamation, 
with  bold  and  dauntless  greeting.  Luckily  for  the  little  troop,  the  very  elevation  of  the 
ground  which  sheltered  the  fantassins  of  the  enemy,  prevented  them  from  aiming  at  the 
daring  swimmers ;  and  when  the  cavalry  of  Conde,  who,  being  on  the  upper  ground, 
saw  what  was  concealed  by  the  sloping  banks  from  the  skirmishers,  once  more  attempted 
to  move  down,  the  royal  cannon  again  belched  forth,  through  flame  and  volumed  smoke- 
wreaths,  their  hail  of  iron  bullets,  and  scattered  them  in  wild  confusion. 

Heavily  the  white  clouds  swept  down,  arid  curtained  for  a  moment  the  bright  Seine, 
and  shut  off  the  scene  of  action  from  the  anxious  eyes  that  gazed  on  it.  They  cleared 
away — and  lo  I  Wyvil  had  landed  safely,  had  formed  his  men  upon  the  hostile  bank — 
and  was  in  the  act  of  charging,  with  battle  cry  and  trumpet  note,  the  surprised  and  dis- 
mayed fantassins.  Furious  and  loud  now  waxed  the  cheering  from  the  island,  while 
from  that  little  troop  the  clash  of  blades,  on  morion  and  corslet,  and  pistol  shots  glan- 
cing among  the  melee,  made  meet  accompaniment  to  that  fierce  stormy  chorus.  But 

6 


122  MARMADtTKE     WYVILj 

the  affair  was  ended  in  a  moment — taken  entirely  by  surprise,  cut  down,  and  trampled 
under  foot,  their  leader  killed,  and  their  position  forced,  the  skirmishers  threw  down 
their  weapons  and  surrendered.  Five  minutes  more  saw  them  embarked  in  the  sloop 
under  a  fitting  guard,  the  mooring  ropes  cut,  and  the  vessel  drifting  with  sail  and  oar 
toward  the  other  bank ;  while,  without  losing  horse  or  man,  the  gallant  partisan  swam 
back,  among  the  redoubled  plaudits  of  his  party,  uninjured  and  in  triumph.  As  he  re- 
turned, the  marechal  rode  down  himself  to  meet  and  thank  him,  at  the  head  of  his 
whole  staff;  and,  having  done  so,  ordered  a  dozen  field-pieces  to  be  passed  over  with 
a  company  of  engineers,  who  should  intrench  the  island,  in  the  same  bark  which  had 
brought  over  the  fantassins.  But  yet  another  and  a  higher  gratification  awaited  the  am- 
bitious partisan ;  for,  as  he  wheeled  his  men  back  to  their  quarters,  he  met  the  royal 
cavalcade  returning  to  St.  Denis ;  many  a  high  encomium  was  passed  upon  his  conduct 
by  tongues  not  wont  to  commend  lightly  ;  many  a  glance  and  smile  were  flashed  on 
him  from  eyes  and  lips  that  rarely  glanced  or  melted  but  for  the  mighty  and  renowned — 
but  one  soft  sigh  was  faltered  forth,  which  went  more  deeply  to  his  soul  than  all  the 
eulogies  of  chiefs  and  princes — one  hurried  speaking  beam  was  shot  from  an  eye  half- 
averted,  that  thrilled  his  heart  more  hurriedly  than  all  the  fascinations  of  all  those  gay 
court  beauties.  The  cavalcade  swept  onward  ;  but  as  they  passed,  there  fell  at  Wyvil's 
feet  a  lady's  kerchief  of  pale  lilac  with  a  broad  gold  border.  From  out  ten  thou- 
sand, the  eye  of  Marmaduke  would  have  discovered  it,  and  sworn  to  its  transcendent 
owner — thenceforth  he  wore  that  kerchief  knotted  upon  his  arm — that  owner  enthroned 
nighest  his  seat  of  life !  From  that  time  forth,  whatever  he  had  been  before,  Wyvil 
was  false  to  Alice ! 


CHAPTER   XXIII. 

MONTHS  had  elapsed  since  Marmaduke  effected  his  escape,  and  everything  at  Wool- 
verton,  except  the  thoughts  of  Alice  Selby,  had  fallen  back  into  their  customary  old 
routine.  Winter,  with  its  keen  frosts  and  driving  snow  storms,  diversified  by  long,  slow, 
sloppy  thaws  and  dark  gray  fogs,  had  come  and  gone  ;  and  spring  had  clothed  the  woods 
with  fresh  green  foliage,  and  called  the  wild  flowers  into  life,  and  waked  the  wild  birds 
into  song ;  and  summer  had  succeeded,  with  its  mature  and  glaring  flush  of  noonday 
beauty :  yet  no  news  arrived  of  Marmaduke,  his  whereabout,  or  his  well-doing ;  nor 
had  the  peddler  Bertram  been  seen  or  heard  of  in  the  neighborhood,  since  the  tempest, 
uous  night  whereon  he  accompanied  the  cavalier  in  his  flight  toward  the  sea-shore. 
One  thing  had  occurred  only,  that  could  be  supposed  to  have  any  reference  to  the  sub- 
ject  which,  it  may  be  believed,  was  ever  uppermost  in  the  disturbed  and  anxious  mind 
of  Alice.  A  few  days  after  Cbristmas,  a  strolling  mercer  had  left  a  little  parcel  at  the 
lodge,  addressed  to  Mistress  Alice  Selby,  Woolverton  Hall,  near  Worcester,  accompa- 
nied by  a  mere  verbal  message,  "  That  it  contained  the  goods  which  had  been  paid  for 
in  the  autumn."  This,  when  it  was  opened — not  without  many  a  surmise  as  to  its 
contents,  for  no  one  could  remember  that  anything  had  been  ordered,  much  less  paid 
for  in  advance — was  found  to  inclose  a  dozen  pair  of  French  kid  gloves,  superbly  fringed 
with  silver  and  embroidered  with  rare  skill,  according  to  the  fashion  of  the  day.  No 
note,  however,  accompanied  the  gift,  for  such  it  evidently  was,  nor  was  there  any  clue 
by  which  ao  much  as  to  guess  the  giver ;  but  on  a  close  examination,  Alice  discovered 
that,  contrary  to  what  was  usual,  every  glove  bore  the  same  device — a  bird  folding  its 
wings  as  if  just  alighted  under  the  shelter  of  a  tuft  of  lilies,  with  this  refrain,  or  posy, 
as  it  was  vulgarly  denominated : 

Serif  Si  I'abri 
Dufleur  delis! 

It  flashed  upon  her  mind,  therefore,  instantly,  that  this  mQ8t.be  intended  as  an  intima- 
tion that  her  lover  had  made  good  his  escape,  and  was  now  in  security  under  the  pro* 


OR,     THE     MAID'S     REVENGE.  123 

tection  of  France,  as  indicated  by  the  chosen  emblem  of  its  ruling  race.  There  could, 
indeed,  be  but  little  doubt  that  this  was  the  case ;  and  while  the  vigilant  and  jealous 
system  of  espionage,  continually  exercised  in  everything  regarding  intercourse  with 
France,  under  the  present  government,  was  taken  into  consideration,  the  delicacy  and 
skill  by  which  this  morsel  of  intelligence  was  transmitted  in  such  a  manner  that  it 
should  not  awaken  the  most  remote  suspicion,  could  hardly  b^  enough  admired.  For 
a  short  time  the  heart  of  Alice  was  relieved  of  care,  and  she  lived,  as  it  might  be  said, 
from  day  to  day  in  the  hope  and  confidence  that  she  should  ere  long  have  the  pleasure 
of  receiving  full  and  sufficient  information  of  him  whom  she  almost  regarded  as  her 
husband.  But  when  month  after  month  lagged  on,  and  no  news  came,  although  she 
learned  at  times  that  other  persons  throughout  England  received  tidings  from  their  roy- 
alist friends  in  the  neighboring  kingdom,  a  cold  and  heavy  feeling  of  despondency  min- 
gled with  apprehension  settled  down,  a  fixed  and  grievous  weight  on  her  young  spirits. 
She  could  not — though  she  strove  against  the  thought,  which  still,  as  often  as  she  re- 
pressed it,  rose  spectre-like  before  her — she  could  not  but  believe  that  she  was  deserted 
— that  she  had  never  been  loved,  as  she  loved  herself,  with  the  whole,  deep,  intermi- 
nable fondness  of  a  sincere  and  single  heart ;  and  that  now,  in  the  first  brief  absence, 
the  first  small  separation,  which,  even  with  the  most  fanciful  and  fickle  liking,  is  wont 
rather  to  add  than  to  deduct  something  of  deeper  interest  and  romance  ;  she  was  already 
overlooked,  forgotten,  and  betrayed.  Brighter  days  would  indeed  at  times  break  in, 
and  with  that  beautiful  and  holy  trustfulness  which  forms  so  exquisite  a  feature  in  the 
pure  love  of  woman,  she  would  frame  many  an  excuse,  and  fancy  many  a  reason,  for 
her  lover's  silence  ;  and  at  times  would  reproach  herself  for  doubting,  even  momentarily, 
the  faith  and  honor  of  him  she  so  devotedly  adored.  Yet  still,  month  after  month,  the 
adverse  feeling  grew  more  palpably  and  strongly  on  her  reason ;  until  at  length  it  was 
so  firmly  rooted,  that  she  would  almost  have  been  more  surprised  to  hear  that  he  was 
faithful,  than  that  he  had  already  broken  his  plighted  faith  and  violated  his  allegiance. 

Well  was  it  then  for  Alice  Selby,  that  though  her  whole  soft  nature  was  imbued  with 
even  more  than  all  a  woman's  tenderness,  and  delicate  and  retiring  trustfulness,  there 
was  yet  in  her  untried  soul  a  deep  spring  of  resolved  and  patient  firmness,  a  never-fail- 
ing source  of  self-sustaining,  humble,  pure  religion.  Jt  was  well  for  her  that  she  had 
learned,  even  in  the  young  days  of  her  all-joyous  unmixed  happiness,  to  raise  her 
thoughts  and  hopes  above  these  transitory  scenes,  and  fix  her  heart  on  those  fair  man- 
sions, where  sorrow  never  comes,  nor  sin,  nor  suffering.  It  was  well  for  her !  for  by 
that  patient  firmness,  and  in  that  high  religious  hope,  that  longing  after  something  hap- 
pier far,  and  holier  and  more  exalted  than  can  be  looked  for  here,  she  was  enabled  to 
endure  her  trials,  nor  to  endure  them  only — but  to  smile,  even  when  her  pangs  were 
keenest ;  and  to  be  herself  happy  in  the  performance  of  her  duties,  and  in  diffusing 
happiness  around  her.  There  were  not,  it  is  true,  so  many,  nor  so  radiant  smiles  on 
her  bright  face.  There  was  not  such  a  mirthful  and  continual  sunshine  as  had  been 
wont  to  beam  from  all  her  sparkling  features.  There  was  not  such  a  bounding  and 
elastic  joy,  as  used  to  manifest  itself  in  every  motion  of  her  light  fairy  frame.  She  fed 
her  birds  as  fondly,  tended  her  flowers  as  sedulously  as  of  old ;  but  there  was  some- 
thing in  her  every  act  and  movement,  as  if  her  feelings,  those  even  which  were  the 
most  pleasurable,  had  lost  a  part  of  their  intensity — as  if  for  her  the  earth  had  lost  its 
glory.  One  pleasure,  one  alone,  not  only  seemed  to  have  remained  unblighted  amid 
the  desolation  of  the  rest,  but  to  have  gained  a  fresh  zest  and  vigor.  The  pleasure  of 
administering  to  the  wants,  and  comforting  the  sorrows  of  the  poor,  the  aged,  and  the 
sick.  Always,  even  from  childhood  upward,  the  eyes  of  many  a  sad  bed-ridden  sufferer 
had  brightened  at  the  gentle  sound  of  her  light  footsteps !  Always  the  needy  and  the 
woful  had  been  accustomed  to  look,  not  in  vain,  for  the  aid  of  her  bounteous  hand,  the 
comfort  of  her  low,  soft  voice  !  Always,  for  miles  around  her  quiet  and  unostenta- 
tious home,  the  prayers  of  the  grateful  peasantry  had  been  wont  to  call  down  blessings 
on  her  out-comings  and  in-goings.  But  now,  more  frequently  than  ever,  her  footsteps 
might  be  traced  among  the  sad  and  sordid  haunts  of  rustic  want  and  wo — more  fre, 


124  MARMADTJKE     WYVILJ 

quently  might  she  have  been  found  sitting  by  the  bedside  of  the  fevered  cottagers ! 
Assuaging  by  her  kind  promises  the  parting  agonies  of  some  sad,  dying  mother  of 
fatherless  and  helpless  babes,  or  soothing  the  impatient  griefs  of  wayward  orphans ! 
There  was  a  deeper  pathos  in  the  tones  of  her  most  musical  voice,  as  she  read  out, 
beside  the  death-bed  of  some  penitent  sinner  !  A  sadder,  yet  a  holier  meaning  in  her 
smile,  as  she  wiped  off  the  tear-drops  from  the  cheek  of  some  forsaken  maid,  and 
pointed  as  her  surest  consolation,  to  the  comforts  of  the  day-spring  from  on  high  !  It 
was  not,  that  she  entertained  so  vain  a  thought,  as  that  these  things  should  be  imputed 
unto  her  for  righteousness  above. 

It  was  not  that  she  nursed  a  hope  so  ruinous  or  so  delusive,  as  that,  by  this  mere 
exercise  of  actual  duties,  she  could  bribe  Heaven  to  favor  her  weak  wishes  !  Oh,  no  ! 
she  was  too  well  taught  in  the  truths  of  that  which  is  indeed  the  Book  of  Life  ;  she 
knew  too  well  the  imperfection  of  all  human  virtue  ;  the  inutility  of  aught  save  faith, 
and  humbleness  of  heart,  and  deep  contrition,  to  fall  even  for  a  moment  into  so  wild  an 
error.  No !  it  was  rather,  that  as  she  came  herself  to  learn  the  fickleness  of  every 
human  fortune,  the  fallacy  of  every  human  hope,  her  bosom  yearned  the  more  toward 
those  who  sorrowed  ;  and  there  was  none  to  comfort  them.  Her  father,  buried  although 
he  was  in  his  beloved  classics,  with  almost  all  his  mind  abstracted  and  engrossed  on 
bookish  meditations,  was  not  so  perfectly  inapprehensive,  as  to  notice  nothing  of  what 
was  passing  in  his  sweet  child's  mind;  nor  yet  so  ignorant  of  the  world's  wisdom,  as 
to  deny  the  justice  of  her  solicitudes  and  fears  :  but  though  he  saw  and  understood  the 
whole,  and  sympathized  with  all  her  sorrows,  and  trembled  for  her  fate,  there  could  not 
perhaps  have  been  chosen  a  less  fitting,  or  a  less  apt  consoler,  than  Mark  Selby.  Him- 
self, originally  a  man  of  deep  and  overflowing  passions,  yet  at  the  same  time  even  from 
his  youth  a  secluded  scholar,  having  set  all  his  happiness  upon  a  single  cast,  and  in  the 
death  of  his  beloved  wife  having  lost  that  all  by  a  single  blow  ;  despite  his  wisdom, 
his  philosophy,  his  Christian  fortitude,  he  had  been  able  to  discover  no  better  remedy 
for  his  incessant  grief,  than  to  shut  himself  up  apart  from  all  his  friends,  among  the 
very  scenes  that  most  recalled  it  to  his  spirit ;  than  to  brood  over  it  in  solitude  and 
silence,  till  it  had  come  to  be  the  sole  companion  of  his  life,  unfitting  him  for  all  exer- 
tion, and  setting  as  it  were  a  great  gulf  between  him  and  the  ordinary  cares  and  pleas- 
ures of  mankind. 

It  is  true,  that  at  times,  under  the  sudden  stimulus  of  some  exciting  circumstance, 
he  could  be  roused  fom  his  stupor,  and  even  spurred  to  energetic  action  and  quiet 
thought !  but  with  the  emergency,  the  brief  spirit  to  which  it  had  given  birth  passed 
away  likewise,  and  left  him  as  before,  the  listless  and  unworthy  student.  This  present 
grief  was  not,  however,  in  any  sort  one  of  those  which  could  operate  to  arouse  him — 
lacking  as  it  did  any  of  that  suddenness  which  seemed  alone  to  stir  him ;  caused  as  it 
was,  rather  by  the  cumulative  evidence  of  many  slight  and  almost  imperceptible  circum- 
stances, than  by  any  one  striking  or  important  incident.  Then,  though  the  old  man 
would  sometimes  wonder  that  no  tidings  should  arrive  from  Wyvil,  and  sometimes  in 
his  secret  soul  doubt  the  sincerity  of  his  affection  for  his  child,  he  would  relapse  almost 
immediately  into  forge tfulness,  and  hardly  seem  to  recollect  that  the  events  had  taken 
place  at  all,  which  had  exerted  such  strong  influences  on  the  peace  of  his  domestic 
circle.  Sometimes,  indeed,  he  would  observe  the  unwonted  silence,  not  to  say  solem- 
nity, of  his  sweet  daughter's  manner.  Sometimes  he  would  gaze  at  her  wistfully  as 
she  sat  by  his  side,  engaged  in  some  graceful  feminine  occupation,  with  downcast 
eyes,  and  an  unusual  air  of  placid  calmness  shadowing  her  expressive  features ;  and  as 
the  sorrowful  conviction  would  steal  upon  him  that  the  same  fatal  blight  had  smitten 
that  young  heart  which  had  converted  his  own  prime  to  ruined  desolation,  a  tear  would 
steal  to  his  withered  cheek,  and  he  would  shake  his  thin  white  locks  in  hopeless  resig- 
nation. Yet  he  dreamed  not  of  altering  his  mode  of  life  ;  of  interrupting  his  secluded 
habits ;  of  seeking  for  a  change  of  associations  by  a  change  of  scene,  in  her  case  more 
than  he  had  done  in  his  own.  It  may  be,  that  he  knew  not  the  efficacy  of  so  slight 
causes  to  «  raze  from  the  brain  a  rooted  sorrow  j"  or,  if  he  knew  it,  he  had  lost  the 


OR,     THE     MAID'S     REVENGE.  12o 

energy  to  practice  it.  So  he  left  her  to  brood  over  her  sorrows,  even  as  he  done  him- 
self; and  if  the  result  did  not  prove  the  same,  it  was  that  the  girl's  mind  was  framed 
of  sterner  stuff  than  the  philosopher's,  and  the  girl's  love  derived  from  a  far  deeper 
source  of  wisdom  than  the  schools  of  the  stoic  or  the  stagyrite. 

Months  had  elapsed,  and  it  was  now  the  very  height  of  summer ;  the  birds,  which 
had  filled  all  the  woods  with  joyful  song  a  few  weeks  earlier  in  the  season,  were  now 
all  hushed  and  voiceless  :  but,  as  if  to  compensate  for  this,  the  air  was  vocal  with  the 
hum  of  myriads  of  bright  insects,  and  perfumed  by  the  odors  of  unnumbered  flowers. 
It  was  a  glorious  morning  in  the  first  week  of  August :  the  heavy  dew,  which  had  fallen 
nightly  for  some  weeks  indicating  by  its  presence  the  very  loveliest  of  summer  weather, 
was  hardly  yet  exhaled  from  herb  and  flower,  when,  tempted  by  the  fresh  coolness  of 
the  time,  Alice  was  wandering  among  her  parterres,  now  one  rich  blush  of  many- 
colored  roses,  when  she  was  disturbed  from  her  pleasant  task  by  the  light  sound  of  an 
approaching  footstep.  Looking  up  quickly  from  the  bush  which  she  was  trimming, 
she  recognized  at  once  the  form  and  features  of  Marian  Rainsford,  the  gentle  widow  of 
the  village  inn,  and  advancing  a  step  or  two  to  meet  her — 

"Ah  !  Marian,"  she  exclaimed,  "  I  am  glad  to  see  you  ;  but  I  hope  nothing  is  amiss 
at  the  Stag's-Head  to  bring  you  abroad  so  early.  How  is  your  mother  these  two  days  ?" 

"  Better,  I  thank  your  kindness,  Mistress  Alice,"  replied  the  fair  pale  widow,  in 
answer  to  Alice's  last  words,  "  I  think  she  is  something  better  ;  though  it  is  true  there 
is  very  little  change  in  her  since  our  poor  Martin  was  taken  from  us.  She  felt  it  as  a 
sad  shock,  and  never  has  been  able  to  look  on  it  as  I  do,  in  the  light  of  a  most  merciful 
and  blessed  release — for  surely  he  had  nothing  to  enjoy  but  the  mere  sense  of  existence ; 
and,  as  you  know,  dear  lady,  after  that  terrible  night  when  the  young  cavalier  escaped, 
he  never  was  himself  at  all ;  but  relapsed  ever  from  one  wild  fit  into  another.  Oh  ! 
lady,  I  am  certain  there  was  some  dark  mystery  befell  that  night,  of  which  nor  you, 
nor  I,  know  anything  at  all.  And  if  I  ask  Frank  Norman,  or  honest  Master  Sherlock, 
they  only  shake  their  heads,  and  make  no  answer.  But  I  am  wasting  time,  and  for- 
getting that  I  came  for.  I  much  fear  there  is  something  wrong,  though  I  cannot  tell 
what — last  night  a  peddler  man  put  up  at  the  Stag's-Head,  whom  I  once  saw  a  year  or 
two  ago  with  Master  Bartram,  and  all  the  evening  long  he  seemed  uneasy  and  desirous 
to  speak  with  me  apart ;  but,  knowing  nothing  of  the  man,  I  kept  aloof  from  him,  and 
I  am  sorry  for  it  now — for  this  morning  early  a  dragoon  stopped  on  his  way  from  London 
to  take  breakfast  and  refresh  his  horse,  on  his  way,  as  he  let  fall,  with  dispatches  for 
Major*General  Henry  from  the  Lord  General  Cromwell ;  and  when  the  peddler  saw  him 
coming  down  the  lane,  in  the  uniform  of  the  Ironsides,  he  was  quite  awe-stricken,  and 
besought  me  to  let  him  out  by  the  little  door  in  the  end  of  the  house,  and  would  have 
left  his  pack  behind  if  I  had  not  reminded  him  of  it.  Well,  Mistress  Alice,  just  as  I 
let  him  out,  he  told  me  that  he  had  come  down  hither  to  warn  you  ;  for  that  Bartram 
had  been  caught  at  last,  and  that  he  bade  him  come  down  hither.  And  he  said  some- 
thing more  about  a  letter,  but  I  could  not  distinctly  understand,  for  he  spoke  very  hur- 
riedly and  low  ;  but  I  made  out  this  much,  that  there  was  danger  to  your  house  somehow 
impending ;  and  that  his  purpose  was  to  warn  you.  But  then  he  pointed  toward  the 
front  door  by  which  the  soldier  was  just  entering,  and  said  it  was  too  late,  and  fled  as 
quickly  as  he  could  up  the  road,  and  I  saw  nothing  of  him  more.  But  when  the  trooper 
had  gone  on  his  way,  which  he  did  very  soon  and  seemingly  in  much  haste  likewise, 
I  came  up  hither  to  tell  you  all  that  I  know ;  but  grieved  I  am,  to  say  that  it  is  all  too 
little." 

"  I  know  not,  Marian,  I  know  not,"  answered  Alice  thoughtfully,  "  nor  can  I  even 
guess  what  it  should  mean.  Sorry  I  am  to  learn  that  Master  Bartram  has  been  taken, 
but  I  cannot  imagine  what  evil  should  arise  to  us  from  his  arrest — but  this  man,  my  good 
Marian,  this  peddler,  do  you  know  his  name  ?  did  Bartram  ever  say  that  you  might 
trust  him  ?  nay,  do  you  even  know  who  Bartram  is  himself?" 

"  No,  lady,"  replied  Marian — "  no,  J  never  heard  this  fellow's  name  ;  nor  ever  saw' 
him  except  once,  as  I  have  told  you  ;  and  what  is  more,  so  far  from  Master  Bartram 


126  MARMADtTKE 

telling  me  to  put  trust  in  him,  I  have  no  certainty  that  he  himself  yielded  him  any  con- 
fidence.  I  have  seen  Bartram  oftentimes  consort  with  men  of  all  conditions,  and  all 
politics  ;  and  when  he  came  in  with  a  stranger,  none  of  us  ever  seemed  to  know  him, 
unless  he  spoke  the  first.  I  cannot  recollect  now,  were  it  for  my  life,  how  he  behaved 
that  night  this  man  was  in  his  company.  I  think,  however,  that  they  seemed  friends  ; 
or  I  should  else  have  thought  more  deeply  of  the  matter  and  so  remembered  it." 

"  He  might,  however,  well  be  a  trapan  or  wily  spy  of  Cromwell,"  said  Alice,  after  a 
moment's  musing  ;  "  I  have  heard  tell  of  such  things — was  it  not  the  young  Cholmond- 
eley  of  Chonandeley  Royals,  who  was  arrested  after  he  had  been  concealed  quite  safely 
for  half  a  year  or  more,  all  through  discoveries  made  by  a  spy  pretending  to  be  a  confi- 
dential agent  ?  I  should  not  wonder  if  this  were  something  of  the  kind.  I  am  almost 
glad  that  I  did  not  see  him.  But,  Marian,  you  have  not  told  me  what  you  know  of 
Bartram." 

"  No,  Mistress  Alice,"  replied  Marian,  her  whole  face  covered  by  a  deep  crimson 
blush.  "  I  have  not  told  you  ;  and  I  must  not,  though  I  know  very  well.  He  is  not 
what  he  seems,  however,  but  a  gentleman  of  birth  and  breeding.  You  may  be  just  as 
certain  of  his  faith  as  if  you  knew  him,  as  I  have  done,  for  years." 

"  Well,  Marian,"  Alice  answered,  "  I  do  not  see  that  there  is  anything  to  do,  or 
even  to  consider  of,  thus  far — if  there  be  evil  coming,  we  have  no  means  of  judging 
what  it  is,  much  less  of  averting  it,  at  present.  All  that  is  left  to  us  is  to  be  patient. 
If  ill  there  be,  sure  am  I  we  shall  not  wait  long  before  we  hear  of  it ;  and  to  hear  noth- 
ing will  be  to  learn  that  nothing  is  amiss.  One  thing,  I  would  urge  on  you,  Marian, 
should  this  man  by  and  by  return,  beware  of  letting  him  discover  that  you  at  all  com- 
prehend— but  ha !  what  have  we  here  ?"  she  said,  interrupting  herself,  as  the  clattering 
sound  of  several  horses'  feet  made  itself  heard  upon  the  gravel  road.  "  Upon  my  word, 
it  is  our  cousin  Chaloner ;  he  has  not  been  here  for  these  many  weeks  ;  and  he  looks 
grave,  I  think,  even  at  this  distance.  Nay,  Marian,  now  I  fear  that  you  are  right,  and 
that  some  danger  is  abroad." 

"  That  do  not  I,  Mistress  Alice,"  answered  Marian  ;  "  General  Henry  is  not  the  man 
to  bring  ill  tidings  to  his  friends  ;  unless  he  brought  withal  their  remedy." 

"  Well,  we  shall  soon  see.  Come  Marian,  I  will  go  meet  him,  as  he  passes  by  the 
wicket ;"  and,  with  the  words,  she  turned  into  a  long  alley  bordered  by  shrubbery  and 
flowers,  across  the  end  of  which  Chaloner  was  obliged  to  pass,  in  order  to  reach  the 
gates  of  the  Hall.  But,  as  if  he  had  anticipated  her  intention,  and  was  desirous  of  frus- 
trating it,  he  put  spurs  to  his  horse  the  moment  he  saw  her  turn  ;  and  passed  the  head 
of  the  walk  at  a  rapid  trot,  bowing  very  low,  but  wearing  no  smile  on  his  handsome 
features,  before  she  had  accomplished  half  the  distance." 

"  There  !  see  you  not  that,  see  you  not  that,  Marian  ?  Be  sure  that  he  bears  some  ill 
news,  which  he  would  break  to  my  father  ere  he  reveal  it  to  me.  I  will  return  to  the 
Hall ;  and,  riding  at  that  pace,  he  will  be  there  long  ere  I  reach  it.  So  farewell — fare- 
well for  the  present,  and  pray  believe  me  that  I  thank  you  much  for  your  kind  services. 
Should  anything  occur,  wherein  you  can  assist  me,  depend  on  it,  I  will  send  for  you." 
"  I  pray  you  do  so,  lady,"  answered  the  gentle  widow,  "  for  we  owe  you  a  very 
heavy  debt  of  gratitude,  and  I  would  fain  do  something,  if  it  were  possible,  to  prove  to 
you  that  we  are  not  insensible  to  your  great  goodness — not  for  a  moment  dreaming  of 
repaying  you :  for  that  I  could  not,  nor  would  wish  to  do,  if  I  could ;  but  that  it  is 
sweet  to  serve  those  we  love,  however  humbly.  But  I  will  not  detain  you,  Mistress 
Alice  ;  for  I  can  see,  by  your  eye,  that  you  are  anxious.  God  bless  and  keep  you,  lady, 
and  may  all  good  go  with  you,  as  do  the  prayers  of  all  the  poor  and  sorrowful.  Heaven 
only  knows  what  would  come  of  them  should  aught  befall  the  house  of  Woolverton  !" 

The  tears  rose  to  the  eyes  of  Alice,  as  the  fair  widow  spoke  ;  but  she  made  no  reply, 
for  of  a  truth  her  heart  was  too  full ;  and,  not  that  only,  but  a  presentiment  of  evil  near 
at  hand  hung  over  her,  depressing  for  the  moment  all  her  fine  energies,  and  high  elastic 
spirit,  so  that  she  dared  not  speak,  lest  she  should  lose  her  self-control  entirely,  and 
burst  into  a  flood  of  weeping :  waving  a  mute  answer,  she  turned  and  walked  rapidly, 


OK,     THE     MAID'S     REVEtfGE.  127 

though  with  a  faltering  and  uncertain  pace,  toward  the  Hall,  before  the  doors  of  which 
she  found  the  horses  of  Henry  Chaloner  in  waiting ;  and  many  of  the  servants  of  the 
household  collected  in  a  blustering,  and  as  it  seemed  half-apprehensive  group,  talking 
in  fast  low  whispers,  and  seeming  by  that  strange  instinctive  intuition  which  is  so  often 
possessed  by  servants,  to  have  discovered  that  matters  were  not  going  well  with  their 
masters. 

"Oh!-  Mistress  Alice,"  exclaimed  the  old  butler,  Jeremy,  coming  up  aa  fast  as  he 
could,  to  meet  her  the  moment  she  came  into  sight ;  "  here  is  Major  General  Henry 
Chaloner  closeted  with  the  master,  this  half  hour,  and  they  have  asked  for  you  thrice, 
Mistress  Alice  ;  the  park  keeper  has  gone  to  seek  you  at  the  fish-house,  and  Abraham 
was  sent  into  the  garden." 

"  Never  mind,  never  mind,  good  Jeremy  ;"  she  answered  quickly,  as  she  hurried  past 
him,  fearful  of  being  detained  by  the  old  man's  garrulity  ;  "  I  am  here  now,  and  Abra- 
ham, and  John  the  park  keeper,  will  not  begrudge  the  trouble." 

"  Not  they,  not  they,  I  warrant  them" — but  long  before  he  had  concluded  his  prolix 
assurances  of  the  men's  willingness  to  incur  every  trouble  in  her  behalf,  Alice  had 
vanished  up  the  staircase,  and  was  already  at  the  door  of  her  father's  study.  There 
she  paused  for  a  moment,  to  collect  her  agitated  thoughts  ;  for  her  heart  beat  fast  and 
painfully,  and  her  limbs  almost  refused  to  do  their  office,  so  certainly  did  she  connect 
this  unexpected  visit  of  her  cousin  with  the  arrival  of  ill  news,  which,  though  she  knew 
not  why,  she  never  for  a  moment  doubted  to  be  in  some  sort  identified  with  Wyvil. 
She  opened  the  door  with  a  noiseless  hand  and  entered,  and  as  she  saw  the  countenan- 
ces of  the  pair,  who  sat  with  many  papers  scattered  before  them  on  the  table,  she  was 
assured  that  her  mind  had  been  but  too  prophetic  ;  for  the  fine  face  of  Henry  Chaloner, 
so  passionless  for  the  most  part  and  calm,  bore  now  strong  tokens  of  vast  care  and 
perturbation,  flushing  at  one  time,  and  the  next  moment  pale  as  ashes ;  his  voice  too 
was  husky,  choked,  and  indistinct;  and  his  eyes  swam  with  tears,  which  he  brushed 
away  every  now  and  then  with  his  gloved  hand,  as  if  he  were  ashamed  to  be  seen 
weeping.  The  features  of  the  old  man  on  the  contrary,  were  much  excited.  The  air 
of  cold  and  careless  abstraction  which  commonly  possessed  them,  had  given  way  to  a 
high  and  spirited  expression,  and  there  was  a  quick  and  lively  glance  in  his  clear  eye, 
a  hectic  color  on  his  pale  cheek,  which  Alice  had  not  witnessed  there  for  years.  So 
quietly  had  she  come  in,  that  neither  was  aware  of  her  presence  •  and  her  father  went 
on  speaking  quite  unconscious  that  he  was  overheard. 

"  So,  as  it  seems  that  no  choice  else  is  left  to  us,  we  were  better  set  off  on  the  instant." 

"  I  fear  so,"  answered  Henry,  gloomily :  "  indeed  I  fear  it  must  be  so  ;  for  though 
this  pass  of  the  lord  general  will  secure  you  from  all  trouble  or  annoyance  on  the  route, 
I  cannot  but  be  apprehensive  that  should  the  parliament  commi?sioners  arrive,  and  find 
you  still  here,  it  might  be  construed  into  an  act  of  contumelious  malignancy." 

"  Well,  if  it  must  be  so,"  replied  the  old  man ;  "  but  it  is  hard,  that  one  so  old  as  1 
am — so  old  in  honorable  years  and  blameless  studies — should  be  forced  to  fly  from  his 
country,  like  a  thief  or  a  murderer ;  and  that  for  no  harm  done  !  But,  it  is  not  for  my. 
self,  Henry !  for  I  have  but  a  little  while,  a  few  months,  more  or  less,  to  wear  away  in 
this  mortality ;  and  what  matters  it  where  one,  so  useless  and  worn-out  as  I,  draw  his 
last  breath  1  It  is  not  for  myself  that  I  feel,  Henry :  although  I  had  hoped  to  see  my 
last  sun  set  over  these  peaceful  trees,  and  to  lie,  when  this  vain  world  should  be  lost  to 
me  for  ever,  by  her  side  in  the  long  home  of  my  fathers.  But,  Alice,  Alice !  oh !  it 
will  be  difficult  to  leave  her — as  leave  her  I  soon  must — far  from  her  native  home, 
among  mere  hirelings,  without  a  friend  or  guardian,  and  in  a  foreign  land.  Besides, 
she  loves  so  dearly  this  old  place,  and  all  its  memories,  that  it  will  break  her  heart  to 
leave  it  1" 

"  No,  father!"  the  sweet  girl  interposed,  taking  a  forward  step  that  brought  her  fully 
into  view — "  no,  no !  believe  it  not !  There  is  not  anything  in  the  wide  world  that  it 
would  break  my  heart  to  leave,  unless  it  were  to  leave  you !  Oh  no !  I  am  quite  ready 
to  set  forth  at  once,  if  it  be  needful — but  whither  must  we  go,  and  wherefore  1  tell  me, 
I  pray  you,  cousin  Henry," 


128  MARMADtTKE     WYV1LJ 

"Grieved  to  thte  heart  I  am  to  tell  you,  Alice ;  but  told  it  must  be,  pain  us  however 
much  it  may ;  so  nerve  yourself,  dear  cousin,  for  the  worst ;  for  this  indeed  is  very  sad 
and  difficult  to  bear.  It  seems  the  peddler  Bartrand,  or  Colonel  George  Penruddock 
rather — for  such  is  his  real  name  and  station — for  whom  the  government  has  been  long 
strictly  watching,  as  an  emissary  of  the  exiled  family,  was  taken  six  nights  since,  after  a 
desperate  resistance,  at  a  small  obscure  tavern  in  the  borough ;  and  v/hen  he  came  to 
be  searched,  there  was  found  on  his  person,  concealed  within  the  hollow  of  a  staff,  a 
letter,  among  sundry  treasonable  papers,  from  Captain  Wyvil  to  his  friend  and  kinsman 
in  the  north,  Vavasour ;  detailing  accurately  his  escape  from  Worcester,  his  lying  hid 
here  in  this  house,  and  even  going  so  far  as  to  describe  the  very  mode  by  which  he  was 
enabled  to  elude  our  search  by  diving  through  an  opening  in  the  wall  of  the  well  into  a 
subterranean  chamber.  Your  name  and  Master  Selby's  were  mentioned  at  full  length, 
so  that  there  is  not  any  room  for  denial  or  disproval,  if  you  had  been  disposed  to  make 
such,  which  I  am  sure  you  are  not.  Unhappily,  the  papers,  some  of  them  having  refer- 
ence to  an  intended  rising  in  the  West,  were  deemed  of  such  immediate  interest,  that, 
Cromwell  being  absent  from  town  at  Hampton  court,  they  were  laid  instantly  before 
the  council  and  by  them  referred  to  the  parliament,  who  proceeded  without  delay  to 
take  action  on  them.  Had  they  been  shown  to  the  lord  general  in  the  first  instance, 
no  evil  should  have  come  of  it ;  for  though  he  may  esteem  it  necessary  to  punish  heavily 
seditious  plotters,  or  those  who  would  disturb  the  constituted  powers,  he  is  the  last  man 
living  to  act  vindictively,  or  to  wage  war  on  those  who  are  now  living  peaceably  in  the 
land,  whatever  may  be  their  opinions.  A  dispatch  was  forwarded  to  me  from  him  this 
very  morning,  by  relays  from  the  military  stations ;  for  he  has  often  heard  me  speak  of 
you,  and  knows  our  kindred,  and  how  dearly  I  regard  your  welfare.  Warrants,  he  tells 
me,  have  been  issued  for  your  and  your  father's  apprehension — the  penalty,  you  know, 
for  the  harboring  and  resetting  proclaimed  traitors  is  death,  Alice — but  that  he  has  him- 
self taken  means  to  delay  the  messengers.  He  has  sent  his  sign  manual,  by  which  you 
may  pass  everywhere  throughout  the  realm,  and  sail  from  any  port  unquestioned ;  he 
urges  upon  me  to  prevail  on  you  to  set  off  instantly  for  France.  He  tells  me  in  so  many 
words,  that  had  he  learned  these  matters  in  due  season,  no  peril  should  have  come  of 
them  to  you  or  any  of  your  kindred ;  but  if  you  be  once  taken,  he  cannot  for  state 
reasons,  which  it  is  needless  now  to  name,  well  interfere  to  save  you.  Farther  than 
this,  all  will  go  well.  Sequestrated  your  estates  must  be ;  but  Cromwell  has  given  me 
his  written  promise  that  they  shall  be  made  over  to  me  in  perpetuity,  and  in  my  own 
power.  I  need  not  therefore  say,  that  I  shall  hold  them  as  your  steward,  remitting  the 
rents  to  you  wherever  you  may  be,  and  looking  to  the  welfare  of  your  tenants  and  poor 
pensioners,  as  you  would  were  you  present.  For  the  rest  there  is  little  doubt,  or  I  might 
well  say  more — that  the  whole  of  this  trouble  will  be  reduced  at  least  to  a  few  months 
sojourn  in  France  ;  for  a  free  pardon  will  be  granted  to  you  easily  after  the  first  excite- 
ment of  the  business  shall  have  died  away,  you  living  quietly  in  the  mean  time,  as  you 
will  doubtless  do,  and  taking  no  part  in  the  angry  politics  of  the  day." 

"  Is  that  all,  cousin  Henry  ?"  replied  Alice,  feigning  a  pleasure  which  she  was  very 
far  from  feeling,  and  mastering  her  own  feelings  so  as  to  induce  her  father  to  more 
self-control — "  is  that  all  that  has  made  you  and  my  father  look  so  gravely  ?  a  few 
month's  absence  only  on  the  continent  ?  I  have  longed  ever  to  visit  la  belle  France ; 
and  here,  it  seems,  is  a  self-made  opportunity ;  a  little  hurried,  it  is  true,  but  the  more 
haste  the  more  excitement.  You  were  best  order  the  coach  round  at  once,  dear  father. 
My  girl  will  pack  up  a  few  things  in  half  an  hour.  We  will  take  Margaret  along  with 
us,  and  Charles  and  Gregory  on  horseback,  and  two  or  three  of  the  other  men  can  ride 
on  the  road  before  us  and  lead  relays  !  so  we  can  drive  to  Bristol  with  our  own  horses — 
that  will  be  the  best  way — will  it  not,  cousin  ?" 

"  I  think  it  will,"  he  answered,  smiling  sadly.  "  You  are  quite  a  general,  Alice,  for 
that  is  just  the  plan  I  had  myself  laid  down  for  you.  There  is  a  vessel  too  at  Bristol, 
to  sail  in  three  days  for  Boulogne." 

11  I  am  glad  of  it,  Henry,"  she  replied—"  I  am  glad ;  when  we  have  anything  to  do 


OR,     THE     MAID'S     REVENGE.  129 

not  altogether  pleasant,  it  is  the  happiest  always  where  it  can  be  done  at  once.  Now, 
dearest  father,  will  you  not  go  and  speak  with  Jeremy,  and  tell  him  simply  that  we  are 
going  to  France  for  a  little  while,  and  that  our  cousin  Henry  will  remain  in  charge 
while  we  are  absent,  and  bid  him  order  out  the  coach,  with  two  relays  of  led  horses." 

"  God  bless  you,  my  beloved  child !  God  bless  you,  and  He  will,"  replied  the  old 
man,  as  he  rose  sadly  and  slowly  to  quit  the  library — "  and  he  will  bless  you.  God's 
blessing  follows  ever  such  constancy  and  piety  as  this.  We  will  dine  early,  and 
depart  immediately.  Chaloner,  you  will  take  your  last  meal  with  us — " 

"  And  ride  with  you  to  Bristol,  and  see  you  safe  on  board  ;  and  then  returning  hither, 
take  order  here  with  all  things,  that  you  shall  find  them  all,  when  you  return,  even  as 
i'  you  left  them." 

"  When  we  return !  when,  Henry  ?"  cried  Mark  Selby,  and  his  countenance  fell,  as 
he  cast  his  eyes  around  him,  over  his  loved  books,  and  the  quiet  study  where  he  had 
passed  so  many  years  of  his  secluded  peaceable  existence.  "  But  go  with  me,  good 
Henry.  Go  with  me,  and  help  me  in  these  hurried  matters." 

"  Nay !  father,  "  answered  Alice,  "  I  would  speak  with  him  for  a  moment ;  go  you, 
I  pray  you,  and  speak  with  Jeremy,  and  he  shall  join  you  in  a  minute.  Now,  Henry," 
she  continued,  as  her  father  left  the  room — "  now,  cousin  Henry,  show  me  the  general's 
letter  ;  tell  me  the  worst  at  once — for  this  is  not  the  worst — that  you  have  told  me." 

"  It  is,  indeed,  Alice,"  he  answered  very  firmly."  Nay,  it  is  something  more  than 
the  worst ;  for  Cromwell  promises  distinctly  to  grant  your  father  a  free  pardon,  if  ail  go 
quiet  for  a  year — his  letter  I  would  show  you,  but  I  cannot.  He  has  gained  some  intel- 
ligence on  matters  which  he  has  misapprehended,  and  drawing  false  conclusions  from 
false  premises,  has  written  that  which  you  could  be  only  pained  to  see,  speaking  with 
confidence  of  things,  as  soon  about  to  happen,  which  we  know  cannot  be.  On  this  I 
will  soon  disabuse  him  ;  and  I  feel  sure,  that  I  may  even  promise  you  a  pardon  like- 
wise,  when  he  shall  know  the  truth." 

The  eyes  of  Alice  fell,  as  Chaloner  uttered  these  words,  and  a  deep  crimson  flush 
covered  the  whole  of  her  pale  features,  for  she  understood  very  clearly  what  he  meant; 
and  she  was  not  merely  pained  by  seeing  that  his  mind  still  dwelt  upon  that  which  in 
bygone  times  had  passed  between  them,  and  which  she  had  been  accustomed  to  hope 
was  now  forgotten,  but  was  embarrassed  likewise  as  to  another  question,  which  she 
was  desirous  of  asking,  while  it  was  still  in  her  power  to  do  so.  Her  cousin  seeming, 
however,  to  misapprehend  the  cause  of  her  agitation,  took  her  affectionately  by  the  hand, 
and  said — 

Do  not  afflict  yourself,  I  pray,  sweet  Alice — I  would  not  have  alluded  to  these 
things  at  all,  could  I  have  helped  it.  I  would  not  have  you  misunderstand  me  for  the 
world — it  was  necessary  that  you  should  know  exactly  how  things  stood  ;  that,  I  assure 
you,  was  the  only  reason  why  I  spoke,  not  to  distress  you  or  myself  by  waking  any 
thoughts  of  what  were  better  far  forgotten." 

"  Oh,  Henry  !"  answered  Alice,"  it  is  you  that  mistake  now  ;  it  was  not  that  at  all 
which  made  me  hesitate,  but  I  was  thinking  how  I  should  put  a  question  to  you,  which 
it  concerns  me  much  to  have  directly  answered." 

Put  it  directly  then,"  said  Chaloner,  "  that  is  the  wisest  always ;  and  believe  me, 
Alice,  there  is  not  a  question  in  all  the  world  that  I  would  hesitate  to  answer  you  in 
the  same  spirit." 

"  I  believe  you,  indeed  I  do  Henry ;  how  could  I  do  otherwise,"  replied  Alice,  "  than 
believe  the  least  asseveration  from  lips  that,  like  yours,  have  uttered  nothing  in  a  life, 
time  but  what  is  true  and  noble  ?  and  I  think  too,  that  you  are  right  in  this.  Tell  me, 
then,  in  these  intercepted  papers,  was  there  no  letter  for  my  father,  or  myself?" 

"  None  Alice,"  answered  the  youth,  "  none  at  least  that  I  heard  of;  and  I  can  hardly 
doubt  that,  had  there  been  such,  the  lord  general  would  have  named  it  in  his  dispatch, 
which  is  for  him  unusually  long  and  copious." 

"  Strange,"  she  said — "  strange  indeed,  and  cruel ;"  and  as  she  uttered  the  words, 
overpowered  for  the  moment  by  her  passionate  feelings,  and  half  forgetful  of  her  cousin's 
presence,  a  tear  or  two  stole  silently  down  her  soft  cheek. 


130          -  MARMADTTKE     WYVILJ 

"And  base,  too,  beyond  measure  !"  exclaimed  Henry  Chaloner,  yielding  to  that  im- 
pulsive indignation,  which  it  was  ever  difficult  for  him  to  control  at  the  occurrence  of 
injustice — "  base  it  was  in  him,  to  write  to  a  third  party,  things  that,  I  fear,  were 
revealed  to  him  only  under  pledge  of  secrecy ;  but  which,  I  am  sure,  no  honorable 
man  would  have  disclosed,  even  if  such  were  not  the  case." 

"  Hush,  Henry !  hush  !"  she  answered  ;  "  I  may  not  hear  such  things  spoken,  and  it 
becomes  not  you  to  speak  them.  Be  that  all  as  it  may,  it  becomes  not  one  so  noble 
as  Henry  Chaloner,  to  speak  in  aught  harshly  of  one  who  might  have,  and  most  likely 
has,  some  good  defence  to  offer  were  he  present.  But  now,  good  Henry,  go  to  my 
father,  and  assist  him  I  beseech  you ;  and  above  all  seek  to  amuse  his  mind,  for  I  much 
fear  this  shock  will  fall  on  him  even  too  heavily.  I  will  make  some  few  brief  arrange, 
ments,  and  meet  you  at  the  noontide  meal — till  then,  God  bless  you  and  farewell  !" 


CHAPTER    XXIV. 

FAREWELL  !  farewell !  that  is  a  sad  word  at  the  best,  and  full  of  dark  associations. 
Even  when  in  all  fruition  of  the  present,  and  high  anticipation  of  the  future,  we  leave 
some  spot  where  we  have  passed  glad  days ;  which  is  linked  to  our  hearts  by  golden 
memories  ;  although  perhaps  we  leave  it  at  the  suggestion  of  our  own  wishes,  and  for 
the  furtherance  of  our  own  interests,  even  then  there  is  a  sense  of  indistinct  and  uride. 
finable  melancholy,  that  will  o'ershadow  us,  clouding  our  joys,  as  it  were  in  despite 
of  our  reason,  and  mingling  our  hopes  with  regret.  Even  when  friends  part,  light 
hearted,  and  care-free,  after  some  pleasant  merry-making,  some  spirit-stirring  revel,  part 
with  the  certainty — as  if  alas  !  aught  that  pertains  to  poor  humanity  can  be  called  cer- 
tain of  meeting  to  renew  that  sweet  communion,  now  for  a  little  space  dissevered — after 
a  few  brief  months  or  weeks,  or  perhaps  days,  there  is  still  in  every  sensitive  and 
thoughtful  soul,  a  tender  and  prophetic  gloom,  a  mellowed  sadness,  a  sprinkling*  of 
that  bitterness  which,  rising  from  the  mid-fount  of  our  pleasures,  leaves  a  sting  in  the 
veriest  flowers  of  existence.  What  is  it,  then,  to  say  "  farewell  "  to  the  place  of  our 
birth,  to  the  home  of  our  childhood,  the  cradle  of  our  intellect,  the  shrine  of  our  affec- 
tions,  the  temple  of  our  memories  ?  to  say  "  farewell,"  when  we  go  forth  to  cross  wide 
seas,  and  visit  foreign  climes  ;  to  exchange  all  the  sweet  and  magical  associations, 
which  belong  not  to  any  other  word  in  our  land's  language  as  they  do  to  that  one — 
"  home  " — all  the  familiarity  of  friends,  all  the  deep  love  of  kindred,  for  the  cold  heart- 
less stare  of  the  great  world,  the  chilling  intercourse  of  strangers  ?  what,  when  there  is 
no  term  set  to  our  reluctant  wanderings,  when  there  is  no  time  named,  when  we  may 
once  again  return  to  all  we  prize  so  far  beyond  all  else  that  the  earth  circles — when 
hope  herself  is  silent  of  the  future  ?  I  know  not  how  it  is,  but  it  seems  to  me,  to  be 
something  more  than  the  mere  work  of  fancy ;  something  more  real  than  the  imagining 
of  spirits  depressed,  and  saddened,  and  rendered  half  poetical  by  sorrow — for  sorrow  is 
a  mighty  wakener  into  life  of  whatsoever  gems  of  the  ideal  lurk  unsuspected  in  the 
soul.  I  know  not  how  it  is — I  say,  that  we  never  leave  any  place,  which  we  have 
loved  and  should  regret  hereafter ;  but  some  chance  circumstances  will  occur,  some 
accidents,  as  painters  call  them,  of  light  or  shadow,  or  of  the  time  of  day,  or  of  the 
ever-varying  seasons,  to  clothe  it  with  a  new  and  fresher  beauty  than  it  has  ever  worn 
before  ;  to  make  it  put  on  a  guise,  rendering  it  far  more  difficult  to  quit  without  reluc- 
tance, or  to  think  of  without  regretful  memories.  At  such  times  it  would  be  a  rehef, 
that  the  lovely  scenes  wherein  our  spirits  have  delighted,  were  veiled  in  the  gray  and 
ghostly  mists  of  dark  November :  that  the  trees  which  have  budded  green  and  fresh, 
as  our  young  hopes,  were  like  them  sere  and  cold  and  leafless  ;  that  the  voice  of  the 
joyous  streamlet  were  bridled  by  the  ice  of  winter ;  the  brilliant  gardens  flowerless,  the 

*  Mediade  forte  leporum 
Surgitamare  aliquid  quod  in  ipsis  floribus  ungit. 


OR,     THE    MAID'S    REVENGE.  131 

happy  warblers  aongless  ;  but  it  is  rarely  BO.  We  are  for  the  most  part  torn  from  our 
pleasures,  when  they  are  the  sweetest ;  exiled  from  our  homes,  when  they  are  loveliest. 
And  so  it  was  now,  to  Mark  Selby  and  his  fair  daughter.  The  gorgeous  light  of  an 
unclouded  afternoon,  at  midsummer,  was  clothing  the  rich  woods  and  grassy  lawns  in 
a  resplendent  robe  of  golden  glory — the  air  was  alive  and  vocal  with  the  hum  of  ten 
thousand  glittering  insects,  the  gardens  were  one  glow  of  roses,  with  myriads  of  light 
butterflies  fluttering  round  their  perfumed  petals — the  streams  were  rippling  with  a  soft 
melody  like  woman's  laughter.  Earth,  water,  air,  were  redolent  of  mirth  and  beauty ; 
and  as  the  slow  and  ponderous  carriage  which  conveyed  the  old  man  and  his  daughter 
from  the  place  of  their  birth,  rolled,  as  it  were,  reluctantly  over  the  smoothly-gravelled 
road,  it  seemed  to  Alice  as  if  the  grinding  wheels  were  crushing  out  the  joys,  the  hopes, 
the  very  life  of  her  young  heart ;  yet  gloriously  she  bore  up,  and  subdued  the  almost 
overwhelming  sorrow ;  and  though  her  sweet  eyes  swam  with  tears,  and  her  voice  fal- 
tered as  she  spoke,  she  yet  compelled  herself  to  talk  hopefully  and  almost  gayly  to  the 
depressed  and  spirit-broken  man,  who,  utterly  prostrated  by  the  shock  of  this  last  great 
calamity,  sat  by  her  side,  with  his  gray  head  bowed  upon  hia  knees,  and  all  his  senses 
for  the  moment  paralyzed. 

As  they  passed  through  the  gates,  and  the  old  porter  with  his  long  white  hair  uncov. 
ered,  stood  in  the  ivied  porch  of  the  brick  lodge,  his  little  grand-children,  Alice's  special 
favorites,  smiling,  and  curtseying  at  his  side,  while  they  held  back  the  leaves  of  the 
great  gate  ;  she  almost  thought  that  life  could  contain  nothing  more  of  pain  or  sorrow, 
than  she  experienced  in  that  passing  moment.  For  who  of  us,  even  the  wisest,  can  so 
much  as  dream  what  is  in  store  for  him,  save  death  alone,  the  one  sure  consequence — 
the  sole,  immutable,  inevitable  offspring  of  the  future  ?  The  trifling  shock  occasioned 
by  the  turning  of  the  cumbrous  vehicle  into  the  narrow  lane,  beyond  the  park  gates, 
aroused  Mark  Selby  for  a  few  seconds  from  his  stupor;  he  looked  about  him  with  a 
long  wistful  gaze,  upon  the  calm  green  fields,  and  fine  old  trees  among  which  he  had 
lived  all  his  days,  and  grown  up  from  the  joyous  prattling  child,  to  whom  the  whole 
world  is  but  one  happy  present,  to  the  frail  bowed  octogenarian,  looking  from  a  sad  past 
on  to  a  sadder  future.  He  gazed  with  a  set  meaningless  eye  on  the  gray  moss-grown 
roofs  of  his  old  home  ;  he  thought  of  her  whom  he  had  brought  long  years  ago,  a  happy 
bride,  to  fill  those  dim  and  silent  halls  with  merriment  and  glee;  who,  after  a  few  little 
years,  years  that  seemed  in  the  retrospect  as  less  than  minutes,  had  left  him  more  alone 
than  ever :  whose  very  grave  he  never  should  see  any  more — he  gazed,  until  a  sudden 
angle  of  the  park  wall,  with  the  thick  leafy  elms  above  it,  shut  off  the  well-known  pros, 
pect :  then,  heaving  a  deep  sigh,  as  if  he  was  half  refreshed — 

"  Alice,"  he  said,  "  it  may  be  that  you  will  see  these  again  ;  God  grant  it !  but,  as  for 
me,  I  never  shall  behold  them  any  more.  I  would  have  laid  me  down  to  my  long  sleep, 
this  weary  turmoil  ended,  on  the  same  bed  and  under  the  same  roof  which  witnessed 
the  commencement  of  my  pilgrimage — 1  would  have  slept  it  out  beside  her.  Never- 
theless, not  my  will  be  done,  but  THINE,"  he  added,  looking  reverentially  upward, 
"  who  never  chastenest  us  but  for  our  own  good— never  forgettest  any  one,  the  hum. 
blest  of  thy  flock." 

But  Alice  could  not  answer  him,  nor  speak  at  all,  because  in  truth  the  very  same 
thought  was  passing  through  her  own  mind  ;  and  ^Jien  her  father  echoed  it  in  that  pro. 
phetic  tone,  which  is  so  frequently  adopted  by  the  aged— especially,  they  who  have 
known  many  sorrows — she  felt  that  it  would  be  but  a  species  of  impiety  to  attempt 
any  consolation,  much  more  to  feign  a  disbelief,  which  he  must  know  she  did  not  enter, 
tain.  She  looked  up,  however,  with  her  soft  gentle  smile  into  his  face,  and  made  aa 
effort ;  but  it  was  drowned  instantly  in  an  abundant  flood  of  tears,  the  first  to  which  she  < 
had  given  way,  that  burst  forth  hot  and  heavy,  yet  seemed  to  relieve  the  overstrained 
aching  brain  of  some  portion  of  its  anguish. 

"  It  must  be  so,  my  child,"  resumed  the  old  man,  taking  her  hand  in  his  tremulous 
and  withered  fingers,  "  but  do  not  weep  for  that.  Sooner  or  later,  it  must  still  be  so, 
my  own  sweet  Alice ;  how  painful  it  may  be  soever  for  you  to  contemplate,  we  must 


132  MARMADTTKE 

part,  at  some  time  or  other,  and  in  the  course  of  nature.  I  shall  set  out  the  first  upon 
that  journey  which  in  His  own  good  time  I  wait  for.  The  old  must  pass  away,  and 
leave  their  places  to  the  young,  even  as  the  aged  oak  makes  way  for  the  fresh  sapling, 
or  the  old  year  expires  to  give  birth  to  the  new.  Therefore  it  is,  my  girl,  that  while  I 
feel  quite  sure  that  I  shall  never  again  look  upon  these  dear  scenes,  I  have  good  trust 
that  you  may  return  hither ;  and  pass  happy  days,  where  you  have  given  so  much  hap- 
pines  to  others.  Nevertheless  if  it  be  ordered  otherwise,  we  have,  I  trust,  been  too 
well  schooled  to  murmur,  or  to  repine  at  that  which  is  before  us.  The  world  has  many 
a  varied  scene,  and  every  scene  has  its  own  beauty,  every  station  its  own  phase  of  hap- 
piness. It  may  be  we  shall  find  few  landscapes  in  other  lands,  so  lovely  to  our  eyes  as 
ihese  green  fields  and  quiet  trees  ;  it  must  be  that  we  shall  find  none  so  endeared  to  our 
memories — but  we  shall  yet  have  many  joys,  and  much  contentment,  and  above  all,  the 
cheering  confidence  that  we  shall  never  be  forsaken  utterly,  or  burthened  beyond  our 
power  to  bear.  Do  not  weep,  Alice  ;  there  may  yet  be  much  happiness  in  store,  much 
more  perhaps,  than  you  have  known  heretofore.  One  thing  is  nearly  certain,  to  which 
you  must  look  forward  with  joyous  expectation. 

"  Oh,  say  no  more  !"  she  exclaimed — "  no  more  on  that  head,  father,  for  I  know  but 
too  well  what  you  mean;  and  I  have  no  hope  at  all,  no  expectation — how  should  I, 
when  all  is  dark  and  bitter  ?  and  that  the  bitterest  of  all,  to  which  we  might  have  looked 
for  comfort.  I  mean  that  he,  he  of  all  men,  should  have  betrayed  us !" 

"  But  that  I  do  not  in  the  least  believe,"  answered  her  father  instantly,  and  with 
much  decision — "  not  in  the  least,  Alice ;  it  is  against  all  probability — all  nature. 
Marmaduke  Wyvil  may  be  light-minded,  trivial,  fickle ;  but  he  cannot  be — nay  I  am 
sure  he  is  not  so  heedless  of  the  obligations  of  a  most  solemn  oath  :  so  wantonly  base 
and  dishonest  as  to  betray  us  without  cause  or  purpose.  No !  set  your  mind  at  ease  on 
that  score,  Alice.  I  am  an  old  man,  and  not  wont  to  form  opinions  lightly,  or  when  I 
have  formed  such,  to  be  mistaken ;  and  I  am  sure,  I  was  sure  from  the  first,  that  there 
is  some  mistake  in  this  report  of  Henry's." 

"  You  make  me  happy,"  answered  poor  Alice,  "her  whole  face  brightening  up  with 
newly-kindled  hope  and  animation.  "  Oh,  father,  you  make  me  very,  very  happy  ! 
And  do  you  think  that  he  is  indeed  true  to  us,  faithful,  and  loyal,  as  we  would  wish  him  ? 
Oh  !  if  you  do  think  so,  surely  it  was  most  wrong  in  me  to  doubt  him." 

"  Whether  he  love  you  as  he  ought  to  do,  my  child,"  replied  the  old  man — 
"whether  his  fancy  or  his  heart  have  ever  swerved  from  you  in  absence — whether,  in 
short,  he  is  worthy  of  such  virtues  as  yours,  Alice,  I  cannot  tell.  Although  I  do  not 
clearly  see  why  he  should  not,  yet  I  am  confident  he  never  wrote  to  Sir  Edmund 
Vavasour — to  any  third  party,  disclosing  what  he  swore  never  to  reveal-!  All  the  rest, 
time  will  make  certain  ;  and  in  the  meanwhile,  I  who  am  never  sanguine,  I  tell  you  my 
dear  child  to  be  hopeful." 

"  But  how  can  that  be — how  can  that  be  ?"  exclaimed  she,  relapsing  into  doubt. 
"  Oh,  no  !  you  are  too  sanguine,  father — for  how  should  they  know  else  where  he  lay 
hid,  much  more  the  very  trick  and  mode  of  his  escape,  when  Henry  searched  the 
house  ?  a  trick  of  which  none  living,  save  you,  and  I,  and  he,  are  cognizant  ?  No, 
father,  no !  Marmaduke  Wyvil  must  have  written — must  have  betrayed  us !  Wo  is 
me  !  he  must !"  * 

'  He  must  have  written,  Alice,  but  not  to  Vavasour.  He  must,  as  you  say,  have 
betrayed  us  ;  but  it  may  very  well  be  he  wrote  to  one  or  the  other  of  us  two,  and  thus, 
through  very  reckless  inadvertency,  but  without  any  guilt,  betrayed  us.  Nay,  but  I 
am  most  sure  that  we  shall  find  it  to  be  thus." 

"  I  fear  me  much  you  are  wrong,"  answered  the  poor  girl,  "  for  I  asked  Henry 
Chaloner  if  there  had  been  no  letters  found  on  Bartram,  addressed  to  either  of  us,  and 
he  made  answer,  '  None  !  none  at  least  that  I  heard  of;'  and  he  went  on  to  say  that, 
had  there  been  such,  he  could  hardly  doubt  that  the  lord  general  would  have  named 
it  in  his  dispatches." 

"  Very  like,  Alice,"  said  he,  promptly  ;  "  but  I  do  not  believe  that  Cromwell  himself 


OE,     THE     MAID'S     REVENGE.  133 

had  seen  the  letters.  They  were,  it  seems,  immediately  submitted  to  the  council,  and 
by  them  laid  before  the  parliament,  and  he  wrote  instantly  to  Chaloner,  so  to  anticipate 
the  evil.  For  the  whole  world  !  my  child,  if  I  believed  it  possible  that  he  should  be 
the  traitor  this  would  make  him,  1  would  not  lead  you  to  form  hopes  which  a  few  days 
would  crush  for  ever  ;  but  I  say,  hope — hope  Alice  for  the  best ;  and  sure  I  am  you 
will  not  be  deceived.  But  see,  here  we  have  reached  the  cross-roads  inn ;  and  our 
relay  is  waiting." 

The  horses  were  soon  changed,  and  here,  as  the  men  who  had  brought  them,  came 
up  to  the  coach  door,  cap  in  hand,  to  make  their  last  adieus  to  their  young  mistress 
before  returning  homeward,  a  fresh  pang  was  awakened  in  a  bosom  that  surely  needed 
no  new  agonies  to  rack  it.  The  carriage  once  again  rolled  onward,  and  the  blunt 
honest  faces,  shaded  by  sincere  grief,  of  those  domestic  friends,  were  lost  to  the  eyes 
of  the  mournful  travellers,  and  no  more  words  were  spoken ;  father  and  daughter  both 
relapsing  into  gloomy  silence.  The  sun  soon  set  and  darkness  covered  the  skies,  and 
by  and  by  the  stars  came  out  on  high,  and  the  moon  rose,  and  shed  her  pure  cold  light 
over  the  lonely  wastes  through  which  they  journeyed.  All  night  long  they  .drove  on, 
slowly  and  wearily  to  spare  their  horses,  pausing  from  time  to  time  to  water  them  at 
some  lone  wayside  public  house,  but  hurrying  through  the  market  towns  and  larger 
villages,  as  if  unwilling  to  awaken  the  attention  of  the  country.  A  little  while  before 
sunrise  they  reached  a  solitary  inn,  to  which  their  second  relay  of  horses  had  been 
directed  to  proceed;  and  here  Henry  Chaloner,  who  up  to  this  time  had  ridden  some 
distance  in  the  rear,  avoiding  to  intrude  upon  the  sorrows  of  his  friends,  came  up  to 
the  carriage-window,  and  advised  them  to  alight  and  repose  themselves  for  some  hours, 
as  they  were  now  distant  but  twenty  miles  from  Bristol,  whither  there  could  be  no 
advantage  of  arriving  before  nightfall.  To  this,  Alice,  who  had  at  first  objected,  wish- 
ing to  get  over  the  whole  journey  at  once,  assented ;  when  Henry  pointed  out  to  her 
that  he  wished,  for  the  purpose  of  avoiding  suspicion,  to  send  an  avant-courier  to  the 
commandant  of  the  garrison  and  port,  who  was  well  known  to  him,  announcing  his 
arrival  with  two  friends,  who  were  about  to  sail  for  France  under  the  sanction  of  the 
lord  general's  sign  manual. 

"  By  doing  this,"  he  said,  "you  will  escape  all  disagreeable  interference  on  the  part 
of  town  officers,  and,  it  is  like  enough,  some  painful  and  impertinent  interrogation. 
Besides,"  he  added,  "  you  cannot  go  on  board  before  to-morrow  night  at  all  events,  and 
you  will,  I  think,  be  quieter  and  therefore  more  at  ease  in  this  little  country  place,  than 
in  the  bustling  seaport." 

This  was  unanswerable ;  and  having  once  alighted,  both  Alice  and  her  aged  parent 
found  themselves  so  fatigued  and  harassed  both  in  mind  and  body,  that,  after  all,  they 
were  not  sorry  to  lie  down  and  rest  in  the  neat  quiet  bed-chambers  of  the  little  inn ;  nor 
did  either  of  them  make  their  appearance  until  late  in  the  afternoon,  after  Chaloner's 
servant  had  returned  from  the  town  bearing  the  greetings  of  the  commandant,  and  an 
invitation  for  his  brother  officer,  with  his  friends,  to  take  up  their  abode  in  the  castle, 
until  the  ship  should  sail.  Then  they  were  summoned,  and  after  a  slight  meal,  partaken 
of  in  almost  total  silence,  with  the  exception  of  a  short  conversation  respecting  the 
propriety  of  accepting  or  declining  Colonel  Millanke's  invitation,  which  was  decided 
by  a  negative,  they  again  set  out  upon  their  road ;  and  the  night  falling  shortly  after- 
wards,  they  entered  the  place  of  their  destination  before  the  moon  was  above  the  horizon, 
and  consequently  without  seeing  any  of  the  romantic  scenery  which  surrounds  that 
prosperous  city — a  loss  which  did  not  seem,  however,  to  be  such  to  the  anxious  travel- 
lers, and  which  in  truth  never  so  much  as  occurred  to  the  mind  of  either.  That  night 
they  slept  in  Bristol,  and  oh !  the  anguish  of  awakening,  in  a  strange  place,  from  the 
forgetfulness  of  happy  sleep — of  gradually  recovering  the  consciousness  of  sorrow,  of 
that  half  doubtful  state,  in  which  the  reason  seems  to  waver,  unable  to  believe,  and  yet 
incapable  of  hope !  Yet  much  has  been  written  to  no  purpose,  if  any  one,  who  has  thus 
far  pursued  her  fortunes,  is  not  aware  that  Alice  Selby  had  by  this  time  so  perfectly 
resigned  herself  to  her  lot,  so  far  regained  her  self-possession  and  tranquility,  that  she 


134  ^      MARMADTJKE 

descended  to  the  breakfast  table  and  met  her  cousin,  after  one  little  struggle,  arrayed 
in  smiles  and  able  to  converse  on  all  topics  connected  with  their  situation  with  absolute 
composure,  and  more,  almost,  than  feminine  decision.  On  her  devolved  all  the  arrange- 
ments of  their  voyage ;  for,  the  excitement  passed  which  had  aroused  her  father  for  a 
little  space,  he  had  fallen  back  into  something  even  heavier  and  duller  than  his  usual 
abstraction  ;  and  it  was  sometimes  not  without  difficulty  that  his  attention  could  be 
called  to  the  present,  strongly  enough  to  give  an  answer  to  an  immediate  question. 
Chaloner  lent  his  aid,  however ;  and  before  evening  all  their  baggage,  with  the  addition 
of  their  carriage  and  six  horses — for  these  Henry  advised  her  strenuously  to  take  with 
her — were  safely  got  on  board ;  passports  provided,  sea  stores  laid  in,  and  all  things  put 
in  train  for  their  departure  at  an  early  hour  on  the  morrow. 

Once  in  France,  it  had  been  determined  between  Alice  and  her  cousin,  that  they 
should  remain  at  Boulogne-  Sur  Mer,  writing  thence  to  announce  what  had  befallen 
them  to  all  their  friends  in  Paris,  among  whom  was  a  certain  Marquise  de  Gondi,  a 
half  sister  of  Alice  Selby's  mother — born  in  a  second  marriage  of  her  grandfather 
with  a  French  lady — who  had  espoused  a  french  nobleman  of  wealth  and  distinction, 
and,  early  left  a  widow,  had  continued  to  reside  in  the  metropolis  of  France,  maintaining 
always  a  frequent  and  most  cordial  correspondence  with  her  English  relatives. 

"  Were  I  you,  Alice,"  said  Chaloner,  continuing  a  conversation  which  had  engaged 
them  for  the  greater  part  of  the  evening,  "  for  I  can  see  that  all  arrangements  will 
depend  on  your  suggestions  to  your  father,  I  would  not  move  from  Boulogne  for  some 
time — not  certainly  until  you  hear  from  me,  and  receive  the  amount  of  your  father's 
autumn  rental ;  the  rest  of  your  wardrobe,  with  the  books  you  mentioned  to  me,  and 
whatever  else  I  may  deem  needful  to  you,  I  will  remit  forthwith ;  and  when  I  can  find 
aught  to  tell  you,  I  will  write,  Alice,  and  you  will  answer  me  ?" 

"  Surely  I  will,"  said  Alice,  "and  I  beseech  you  to  write  to  me  often;  for  I  shall 
ever  yearn  to  hear  from  Woolverton.  But  why  should  we  not  go  at  once  to  Paris  ?  I 
am  sure  Madame  de  Gondi  will  be  anxious  to  receive  us." 

'  I  am  sure  she  will,  Alice,  too ;  yet  I  advise  you  strongly  not  to  go  as  yet.  The  court  is 
exiled  from  the  city,  living  at  present,  as  I  learned  by  the  last  dispatches  at  Pontoise — a 
furious  civil  war  is  raging  in  all  the  Isle  of  France,  in  many  parts  of  Champagne,  in  Bries, 
and  all  the  country  thence  to  the  Flemish  frontier.  Monsieur  Turenne,  it  is  true,  beat 
the  princes  in  a  great  battle  under  the  walls  of  Paris  on  the  second  of  last  month,  and 
would  have  crushed  their  party  utterly,  but  that  the  factious  citizens  admitted  the  rebels, 
by  the  gate  of  St.  Antoine,  and  played  the  cannon  of  the  Bastile  on  the  king's  forces ; 
but  we  hear  that  the  Spaniards  have  retaken  all  the  strong  places  they  had  lost  in  Flanders 
and  elsewhere,  and  that  the  Archduke  of  Lorraine  has  again  entered  France  with  five- 
and-twenty  thousand  men,  and  is  in  full  march  on  the  capital,  hoping  there  to  effect  a 
junction  with  the  Prince  of  Conde.  So  you  perceive,  that  were  you  to  reach  Paris 
no\v,  you  would  be  in  the  midst  of  hostile  armies ;  and  moreover,  Madame  de  Gondi 
being  of  the  royal  party,  and  all  the  English  cavaliers  who  have  escaped  since  Wor- 
cester being  engaged  on  the  king's  side,  you  might  be  possibly  exposed  to  violence 
from  the  Frondists,  who  are  strong  in  the  metropolis ;  and,  what  is  worse,  news  would 
be  likely  to  reach  England,  that  your  father  was  bestirring  himself  in  French  politics  ; 
and,  though  we  know  that  to  be  quite  impossible,  yet  in  such  times  as  these,  no  rumors 
are  too  wild  for  credence." 

"  Oh,  Heaven !"  said  Alice  ;  "  and  is  our  lot  to  be  cast  once  more  in  the  midst  of 
warring  armies  ?  Is  there  to  be  no  more  place  upon  earth  for  ever,  but  civil  wars,  and 
blood,  and  parricidal  slaughters  ?  kings  trampling  on  the  liberty  of  subjects,  and  sub- 
jects  impiously  armed  against  the  majesty  of  kings,  and  sanguinary  selfish  soldiers  lashing 
both  on  to  wilder  madness  prompted  by  foul  self-interst  ?  Is  this  to  be  the  history  of 
the  world  henceforth  for  ever,  Henry?  for  if  it  be  so,  I  care  not  how  soon  I  may  be 
where  I  shall  see  no  more  of  it." 

"He  only- can  reply  to  you,"  said  Henry,  gravely,  "to  whom  all  things  are  known. 
It  may  not  be  denied,  however,  that  matters  do  look  strangely,  the  world  over.  The 


OR,     THE     MAJDJS     REVENGE.  135 

people,  everywhere,  having  asserted  and  regained  those  rights,  which  of  a  certainty  were 
threatened  but  a  little  while  ago,  seem  set  at  present  on  pulling  down  the  rights  of 
others.  How  it  ma^  end  I  know  not ;  but  I  confess  for  one,  my  confidence  is  shaken 
altogether  in  the  self-governing  power  of  the  people  :  they  do  not  possess  equity,  honesty, 
self-knowledge,  self-respect,  or  self-control.  I  hope  and  pray,  but  I  doubt,  Alice,  oi  the 
future.  In  France,  I  believe,  however,  this  civil  strife  is  nearly  ended ;  and  that  soon, 
for  a  season,  peace  will  be  established.  Turenne  has  marched  against  the  archuuke  ; 
and,  as  a  soldier,  I  have  little  doubt  he  will  beat  him.  The  Cardinal  Mazarin,  vnose 
favor  with  the  queen-mother  was  the  chief  cause  of  disaffection,  has  withdrawn  himself 
into  voluntary  exile ;  and  altogether  I  am  well  of  opinion,  that  before  two  montha  shall 
pass,  all  will  again  be  quiet  and  the  court  firmly  settled  in  the  Louvre.  By  that  time 
you  will,  if  you  adopt  my  plan  of  remaining  at  Boulogne,  have  secured  all  your  x-dinit- 
tances  and  wardrobe ;  you  will  have  gained  full  information  concerning  this  bad  business, 
of  which  as  yet  we  know  so  little  ;  and  then,  if  no  change  shall  have  occurred  permitting 
you  to  return  home,  you  can  remove  to  Paris.  Should  the  marquise  solicit  your  imme- 
diate progress  to  the  capital,  I  think  the  state  of  the  countries  and  the  vicinity  ot  the 
armies  will  be  excuse  sufficient." 

"  Oh  yes,  indeed  it  will,"  said  Alice' :  "  I  would  not  be  again  within  reach  of  such 
occurrences  as  followed  Worcester,  for  all  the  wealth  of  France.  I  will  persuade  my 
father  to  adopt  your  plans  implicitly,  and  shall  hope  to  hear  tidings  of  all  my  friends, 
both  great  and  humble,  at  your  hands  very  often." 

"  You  shall,  you  shall  indeed,"  he  answered ;  "  and  you  must  not  be  very  much 
surprised  if  you  were  to  see  me  before  very  long.  There  is  some  talk  of  sending  a  fresh 
envoy  to  the  Hague,  and  I  have  been  entreated  to  accept  the  duty.  As  yet  I  know  not 
how  it  will  all  end.  But  it  is  growing  late  already;  and,  as  you  must  rise  betimes 
to-morrow,  I  will  now  take  my  leave.  Good  rest  to  you,  my  gentle  cousin." 

The  morning  followed  soon — the  cold,  gray,  melancholy  morning ;  and  the  sad  exiles 
bade  farewell  to  their  last  friend,  and  went  on  board  the  ship,  with  its  foretopsail  set, 
and  sailing  signals  flying,  but  waited  their  arrival  to  get  under  weigh.  To  those  who 
have  parted  from  their  native  lands,  words  are  unnecessary  to  recall  the  cold  dull  stun- 
ning agony  which  paralyzed  their  very  souls,  as  these  beloved  shores,  never  perhaps  to 
bless  any  more  the  straining  eyes  that  watch  them  to  the  last,  faded  in  the  far  distance: 
to  those  who  know  not  that  dread  trial,  no  words  could  paint  it;  but  may  they  never 
know  it !  The  wind,  though  fair,  was  fresh ;  and  as  the  good  ship  left  the  harbor  it 
freshened  more  and  more,  and  the  vessel  rolled  and  pitched ;  and  it  was  well  perhaps 
for  Alice,  that  for  a  time  corporeal  sufferings  effaced  the  anguish  of  her  spirit ;  and  that 
no  room  was  given  her  for  contemplation  of  the  past,  or  imagination  for  the  future,  until, 
a  boisterous  but  rapid  passage  ended,  they  lay  in  safety  at  the  pier-head  of  Boulogne— 
and  then  new  scenes,  new  hopes,  new  fears,  and  all  the  keen  excitement  consequent  on 
the  first  sight  of  a  new  country ! 


CHAPTER   XXV. 

THE  current  of  events  never  stands  still ;  the  tide  of  cause  and  effect  never  ebbs , 
but  still,  advancing  with  a  flood  equally  noiseless  and  invisible,  whether  it  be  slow  or 
rapid,  overtops  the  landmarks  of  the  most  sage  experience,  and  shakes  the  bulwarks  of 
the  firmest  resolution.  Still,  even  in  the  most  eventful  periods  of  the  most  eventful 
lives,  there  will  be  many  a  pause,  many  a  breathing  space  of  seeming  quiet,  during  which 
it  not  seldom  happens,  that  when  we  deem  ourselves  most  tranquil  and  secure  in  our 
ignorance  of  what  is  passing  elsewhere,  accidents  are  actually  going  on,  in  places  we 
have  never  heard  of,  and  among  persons  we  have  never  seen,  which  are  to  alter  the 
whole  course  and  tenor  of  our  lives,  and  work  our  happiness  or  wo.  For  well-nigh  two 
months  after  their  disembarking  at  Boulogne,  nothing  apparently  occurred,  nothing  assu. 


136  MARMADUKE     WYVILJ 

redly  transpired,  that  could  effect  the  Selbys  either  for  good  or  evil.  They  soon,  indeed, 
received  replies  from  their  Parisan  friends,  some  kind,  and  warm,  and  cordial ;  others 
as  cold  and  ungenial  as  a  July  hailstorm.  The  kindest  from  those  persons  on  whom 
they  had  the  slighter  claims,  who  had  least  loudly  tongued  their  protestations !  the 
coldest  from  the  most  indebted,  and  the  most  prodigal  of  former  offers  !  To  this,  there 
was  but  one  exception :  Madame  de  Gondi's  letters  were  all  that  could  be  wished  for 
or  expected  ;  so  hospitably  anxious  to  embrace  her  lovely  niece,  so  strenuous  in  her  de. 
light  at  offering  her  a  home  in  her  heart  of  hearts,  that  she  seemed  positively  to  rejoice 
at  the  calamities,  which  had  enabled  her  to  enjoy  her  society,  and  to  give  scope  to 
all  the  largeness  of  her  own  generous  spirit.  After  the  first  strong  pressing  invitation, 
she  was  induced,  however,  to  admit  the  prudence  of  Henry  Chaloner's  advice,  and  to 
content  to  their  remaining  tranquilly  in  private  lodgings  at  Boulogne  until  the  court  should 
return  to  Paris,  and  the  war  be  brought  to  a  conclusion,  which  all  the  royalists  now 
prophesied  aloud,  must,  ere  long,  be  the  consequence  of  Turenne's  martial  skill.  Mean- 
while, the  life  of  Alice  and  her  father  passed  oh  as  stagnantly  as  can  well  be  imagined. 
Letters  came  now  and  then  from  Chaloner,  accompanying  the  promised  bales  of  books 
and  habiliments,  but  there  was  little  in  them  of  grand  or  stirring  interest :  relating  as  they 
did  for  the  most  part  to  local  matters,  to  the  tenantry,  and  poor,  and  household  at  Wool- 
verton,  which  had  been  formally  sequestrated  and  granted  in  due  course  of  law  to 
Chaloner,  who  hastened  to  remit  the  proceeds  of  the  rents  ;  while  all  the  charities  of  the 
late  owners  were  still  continued,,  and  the  establishment  kept  up  almost  upon  its  ancient 
footing.  At  times,  long  gossiping  epistles  would  arrive  from  Madame  Gondi,  full  of 
descriptions  of  the  progress  of  the  royal  arms,  of  loyal  hopes  and  exultations,  and 
copious  praises  of  the  loyal  leaders,  among  whom,  more  than  once,  poor  Alice  found 
enumerated  the  name  of  Major  Wivil,  as  one  distinguished,  far  above  his  fellows,  for 
desperate  valor  and  high  conduct.  Beyond  this,  nothing  of  any  kind  occurred  to  dis- 
turb the  monotonous  gloom  of  the  life  which  they  led,  day  after  day,  in  the  small  unin- 
teresting seaport.  A  solitary  walk  upon  the  cliffs,  or  on  the  strip  of  yellow  sand  below 
thum,  a  wistful  straining  of  the  eyes  toward  the  invisible  shores  beloved,  and  now  and  then 
a  drive  through  the  dull  environs — these  were  her  only  occupations  beyond  the  doors 
of  their  cheerless  home.  Her  father,  who  now  had  fallen  back  completely  into  his 
ancient  habits,  seemed  to  be  scarcely  conscious  of  the  change  which  had  occurcd  in  his 
fortunes  ;  but  a  few  of  his  favored  authors  being  forwarded  to  him  by  Henry,  he  read, 
and  wrote,  and  mused,  and  methodized  in  a  small  dingy  chamber  in  Boulogne,  with  the 
same  unremitting  studiousness  which  keept  him  ensconced  for  weeks  together  in  his 
delightful  library  at  Woolverton  ;  and  seemed  to  be  as  happy  now  as  he  had  been  at 
any  period  of  his  life. 

Two  months  passed,  and  the  summer  flowers  had  passed  away,  the  harvest  had  been 
gathered  in,  the  vintage  had  been  pressed,  and  brown  October  was  painting  busily  the 
woods  with  the  rich  hues  of  his  autumnal  pallet.  From  time  to  time  they  had  learned 
that  the  Spaniards  had  retreated  into  Flanders ;  that  Monsieur  de  Lorraine  was  ad- 
vancing a  second  time  on  Paris ;  that  Turenne  had  marched  to  intercept  him,  but 
having  failed  to  prevent  his  junction  with  the  princes,  had  taken  up  a  strong  position 
in  the  angle  of  the  Seine  and  Heydre — the  very  same  which  had  been  occupied  in  June 
by  the  duke,  and  was  too  strong  to  be  attacked  with  any  probability  of  success,  although 
the  enemy  were  confident  of  speedily  reducing  him  by  want  of  forage  and  provision 
for  his  men.  Soon  afterwards,  news  reached  them,  that  at  the  very  moment  when  the 
princes  imagined  that  the  royal  army  must  surrender  within  thft'  space  of  a  few  days, 
the  great  French  captain  had  bridged  the  Seine  with  boats  in  sev.eral  places,  and  extri- 
cated all  his  troops  without  the  loss  of  a  single  man,  or  the  discove.  ry  by  the  enemy  that 
he  so  much  as  meditated  the  evacuation  of  his  lines.  Then  came  intelligence  that  the 
royalists  had  passed  the  Marne  at  Meaux,  and,  marching  by  Borest  aild  Mont  1'Evfique, 
had  taken  a  position  at  Courteuil  near  Senlis ;  and  that  the  rebels,  utx  'erly  discouraged 
at  finding  themselves  thus  out-manoeuvred,  and  left  in  a  devastated  regie  in  witn  a11  tnejr 
work  to  do  a  second  time— their  foreign  friends  deserting  them  mean\y,  kite*  »ad  their 


OR,     THfi    MAID'S     REVENGE.  137 

abettors,  the  most  of  the  great  cities,  becoming  weary  of  them — had  fallen  back  into 
Champagne  and  Lorraine  ;  the  Spanish  leaders  having  engaged  to  meet  them  at  Rethel 
on  the  Aisne,  and  aid  them  to  reduce  such  fortresses  and  strongholds  in  those  provinces 
as  might  be  necessary  to  secure  their  winter-quarters.  The  consequence  of  these 
events,  it  was  predicted  strongly,  would  be  the  return  of  the  court  to  Paris ;  and  Alice 
was  encouraged  to  expect  a  speedy  summons  thither. 

Such  was  the  state  of  affairs  in  the  realm  of  France,  when,  on  one  bright  clear  morn- 
ing, it  was  announced  with  no  small  bustle  throughout  the  streets  of  Boulogne,  that  an 
English  barque  had  come  into  port  a  little  after  sunrise  ;  and  that  a  government  courier 
was  at  the  moment  entering  the  town  with  dispatches,  it  was  supposed,  of  great  moment. 
An  hour  or  two  afterwards,  the  attention  of  Alice  was  attracted  by  the  great  concouise 
which  began  to  pour  through  all  the  thoroughfares  toward  the  market-place,  where  she 
soon  learned,  from  the  exclamations  of  the  people,  that  the.governor  of  the  royal  gar- 
rison was  about  to  address  the  citizens,  touching  some  news  which  had  arrived  from 
Paris.  She  had  already  risen  from  the  window  by  which  she  had  been  sitting,  with 
the  intent  of  sending  one  of  the  men  to  learn  what  was  passing,  when  the  door  opened, 
and  her  maid  came  in  bearing  two  letters,  with  a  face  full  of  well-pleased  smiles,  ex- 
claiming, "  From  England,  Mistress  Alice,  from  England  !  and  from  Paris  too ;  and  all 
the  town  are  mad,  I  think,  for  joy,  for  the  great  marshal,  I  forget  his  name,  has  beat 
the  roundheads." 

"  The  roundheads  !"  replied  Alice,  with  a  smile.  "  The  rebels,  you  mean,  Margaret ; 
there  are  no  roundheads  here." 

"  Weil,  then,  the  rebels,  Mistress  Alice,"  answered  the  girl ;  "  but  I  thought  it  was 
all  one.  Our  roundheads,  I  am  suref  were  rebels.  But  beaten  they  are,  and  glad  I  am 
of  it ;  and  the  king,  and  our  good  duke  of  York,  and  all  the  gentle  cavaliers  have  been 
carried  back  in  triumph  to  Paris." 

"  Well,  that  is  good  news,  Margaret,  if  it  be  true,"  said  Alice-;  "  for  in  that  case,  we 
can  go  at  once  to  the  city." 

"  Oh,  I  shall  be  so  glad !  oh,  so  glad !"  exclaimed  the  country  girl,  her  whole  face 
radiant  with  delight.  "  They  say  it  is  the  finest  in  all  the  universal  world.  When  shall 
we  go,  Mistress  Alice  ?  Oh,  I  am  so  glad !" 

"  I  doubt  it  not,"  said  Alice,  laughing  somewhat  sadly  ;  "  but  be  not  too  quick  in 
your  gladness,  Margaret :  for  many  a  thing,  which  seems  to  us  all  joy  in  the  beginning, 
brings  in  the  end  much  sadness ;  and  it  is  well,  if  not  repentance  also.  But,  leave  me 
now,  my  good  girl,  that  I  may  read  these  letters,  and  you  shall  hear  all  in  season." 
And  as  she  spoke  she  tore  the  cover  off  the  English  letter,  which  was  addressed  in  the 
familiar  hand  of  her  cousin,  and  seemed,  from  its  bulk,  to  contain  several  inclosures. 
The  first  on  which  her  eye  fell,  as  she  broke  the  seal,  was  a  small  note  directed  sepa- 
rately to  herself,  with  the  word  "  private,"  added  to  the  superscription.  The  writing 
was  still  Henry's,  and  her  heart  beat  tumultuously,  as  she  opened  it,  for  she  half  feared 
that  he  might  have  procured  her  pardon  from  the  lord  general,  coupled  with  some  con- 
ditions, which  it  would  have  been  painful  for  her  to  refuse,  and  to  admit,  impossible 
But  her  heart  smote  her  for  the  imperfect  thought,  even  as  she  began  to  form  it ;  and 
her  fears  were  relieved  at  once  when  she  began  to  read,  as  follows : 

"  I  know  not,  cousin  Alice,  that  I  should  have  written  at  all  by  this  present  oppor- 
tunity, the  barque  '  Good  Providence,'  about  to  sail  this  morning  from  Tower  Stairs,  I 
being  at  this  time  in  London ;  but  that  some  matters  came  to  my  ear  last  night,  which 
1  judge  all-important  to  be  made  known  to  you  forthwith ;  and  should  it  seem  to  you, 
that  I  am  overbold  in  touching  on  them,  you  will,  I  think,  excuse  me,  seeing  that  I 
write  only  for  your  personal  advantage;  and  further,  that  T  once  unwittingly  misled 
you  in  relation  to  one,  of  whom  you  have  thought  favorably.  To  be  brief,  cousin 
Alice,  I  learned  yesternight  that  the  report  which  Cromwell  sent  to  me  at  first,  was  not 
the  truth  at  all ;  he  not  as  yet  having  perused  the  papers  !  There  was,  indeed,  a  letter 
to  Sir  Edward  Vavasour  from  Captain  Wyvil ;  but  it  related  solely  to  a  projected  rising 


138  MAftMADtrtfE    WYVIL; 

in  the  north,  which  Wyvil,  it  would  seem,  discouraged ;  and  contained  not  one  word 
touching  yourself,  or  his  escape  from  Woolverton.  All  that  affected  you  or  Master 
Selby,  was  written  in  a  long  epistle,  addressed  to  yourself,  and  marked  on  the  outside, 
'to  be  delivered  privately  by  Master  Bartrain.'  What  more  it  contained  I  know  not, 
for  it  was  burnt  by  the  lord  general  at  once,  who  rated,  as  I  hear,  the  council  very 
roundly  for  breaking  private  seals,  and  troubling  their  heads  with  women's  matters. 
This  I  conceived  it  my  duty  to  let  you  know  forthwith,  as  you,  I  know,  drew  false  con. 
elusions  from  the  rumor;  and  I,  to  my  shame  be  it  said,  strengthened,  so  far  as  in  me 
lay,  instead  of  seeking  to  allay  your  indignation.  I  deem  it  therefore  my  bounden  duty 
to  let  you  know  these  facts  ;  and  that  although  it  may  have  been  indiscreet  in  Captain 
Wyvil  to  commit  such  things  at  all  to  writing,  he  certainly  is  quite  exonerated  from  all 
charge  of  anything  base  or  dishonorable.  I  am  rejoiced  to  have  it  in  my  power  to  add, 
that  something  in  the  style  and  tenor  of  his  letter,  had  affected  the  lord  general  so 
favorably,  that  I  have  been  able  to  obtain  his  promise  of  a  full  pardon  for  yourself,  and 
your  father,  within  the  space  of  six  months,  and  a  reversal  of  the  decree  of  sequestra, 
tion  :  so  that,  by  the  next  spring  at  farthest,  you  may  return  to  Woolverton.  I  have 
no  doubt,  moreover,  so  much  was  Cromwell  gratified  by  the  tone  of  Captain  Wyvil 's 
letter  to  Sir  Edmund,  deprecating  any  partial  risings,  which  could  but  tend  to  bloodshed 
and  fresh  miseries,  without  effecting  anything  to  aid  the  royal  cause,  and  speaking  with 
indignant  condemnation  of  those  infamous  schemes  which  we  hear  of — that,  if  at  any 
future  period  he  should  feel  disposed  to  return  to  England,  a  ready  abrogation  of  his 
outlawry  could  be  obtained  ;  he  only  binding  himself  on  parole  of  honor,  to  take  no 
hostile  steps  against  the  existing  government.  Should  you  meet  with  him,  as  you 
doubtless  will  in  Paris,  whither  I  fancy,  by  all  we  hear  of  Monsieur  Turenne's  sue- 
cesses,  you  will  proceed  ere  long ;  pray  say  to  him,  should  he  entertain  such  views,  he 
will  at  all  times  find  in  me,  one  anxious  to  assist  him  by  all  means  in  my  power.  I 
may  add  here,  that  every  post  that  has  reached  us  from  the  armies,  speaks  of  his  gal- 
lantry and  conduct,  as  a  partisan  commander,  in  the  highest  terms  of  commendation. 
I  have  inclosed  herewith  bills  on  Parisian  goldsmiths  for  one  thousand  pounds,  made 
payable  to  your  name ;  which  you  will  indorse  upon  them,  on  receiving  their  value, 
but  not  sooner,  as  in  case  of  loss  they  are  useless  until  your  name  is  signed  upon  them. 
I  have  preferred  this  mode,  to  sending  them  to  my  kind  friend  and  cousin,  Master 
Selby,  fearing  that  his  secluded  habits  and  tastes  for  literary  occupation,  may  render 
him  averse,  or  at  least  indisposed,  to  the  details  of  business.  Praying  you,  my  dear 
Mistress  Alice,  to  hold  me  ever  in  your  remembrance,  and  to  commend  me  to  your 
good  father's  friendship,  I  subscribe  myself, 

"  With  sincerity,  your  true  friend  and  willing  servant, 

"  HENRY  CHALONER. 

"Post  Scriptum — When  I  was  last  at  Woolverton,  all  your  old  proteges  and  tenantry 
were  well  in  health,  and  earnest  in  inquiring  after  their  bounteous  lady,  and  most  kind 
mistress. 

"  From  my  house  in  the  Strand,  this  15th  day  of  October,  1652." 

What  were  the  thoughts  of  the  sweet  girl  as  she  perused,  line  after  line,  the  welcome 
letter  which  assured  her  that  she  had  falsely  blamed  her  lover — that  he  was  true  and 
stainless  of  every  blot  upon  his  honor — that  so  far  from  forgetting  her,  he  had  seized  the 
first,  -sit  seemed,  safe  opportunity  of  correspondence — can  be  more  readily  imagined 
than  described.  The  tears  gushed  to  her  eyes  before  she  had  read  one  half  of  it,  and 
blinded  her  for  several  minutes ;  yet  they  were  pleasant  tears,  and  as  they  flowed  they 
soothed  her  restless  and  perturbed  imagination.  She  dried  them  and  read  on,  and  wept 
again ;  and  wept  and  read  alternately,  till  she  had  run  it  over  many  times,  and  had  its 
contents,  as  it  were,  by  heart ;  then  she  sat  for  a  long  while  immoveable  and  silent, 
communing  with  her  own  soul  in  secret ;  and  then  at  last,  as  she  yielded  altogether  to 
the  conviction,  that  she  had  indeed  been  in  error  all  the  time ;  that  all  her  hopes,  when 
the  had  most  believed  them  withering  and  blighted,  were  in  fair  progress  toward  fulfil- 


OB,    Trifi   MAID'S   REVENGE.  139 

ment,  she  fell  down  on  her  knees  and  poured  forth  to  the  great  Giver  of  all  human  joy 
and  sorrow,  a  flood  of  holy  heartfelt  gratitude  and  humble  adoration.  She  prayed  for 
pardon  of  her  past  doubts  and  secret  murmurings ;  for  strength  to  bear  this  sudden 
change  from  the  abyss  of  sorrow  to  happiness  unspeakable  without  undue  and  impious 
exultation ;  and  having  prayed,  she  rose  refreshed  and  strengthened,  and  more  like 
herself  than  she  had  felt  for  months.  This  duty  finished,  as  soon  as  she  felt  sufficiently 
composed  to  betake  herself  to  less  exciting  matters,  she  opened  the  other  letter,  which 
she  saw  at  once  was  from  her  kind  relation,  Madame  de  Gondi.  This  confirmed  fully 
the  tidings  which  had  been  brought  to  Boulogne  by  the  courier :  the  court  was  once 
more  reinstated  in  the  Louvre,  the  good  Parisians  having  received  their  king — whom  for 
many  months  they  had  banished  from  their  capital,  which  they  had  even  suffered  to  be 
filled  with  the  red  scarfs  of  the  Spanish  soldiers  and  the  Burgundian  standards  of  his 
moat  desperate  enemies — with  acclamations  of  enthusiastic  joy,  and  such  outbursts  of 
joyous  Loyalty,  that  any  one  would  have  supposed  that  he  had  absented  himself  for  so 
long  a  time  in  opposition  to  the  wishes  of  his  subjects.  The  army  of  the  princes  had 
retreated  into  Champagne,  and  the  king's  troops  under  the  indefatigable  Turenne  were 
in  full  pursuit  of  them,  having  already  taken  Chateau  Porcien  and  Rethel  on  the  Aisne. 
"Come,  then  at,  once — come,  dearest  Alice!"  ran  the  concluding  sentences;  "per- 
suade  your  father  to  tear  himself  without  delay  from  his  dull  books,  and  come  to  us 
while  we  are  arrayed  in  smiles  and  merriment.  There  are  more  fetes  and  balls,  more 
masques  and  carousels,  than  we  have  seen  for  many  a  year ;  and  as,  to  say  the  truth, 
we  are  the  least  in  the  world  changeable  and  capricious — we  good  citizens  of  Paris — so 
that  six  months  hence  we  may  be  again  all  rebels,  and  blockaded  and  besieged,  and 
famishing,  and  furious  ;  it  is  best  that  you  should  come  immediately,  and  see  us  au  plus 
beau  !  But  seriously,  the  roads  are  all  clear  now,  and  there  is  nothing  to  hinder  you, 
but  everything  on  the  contrary  to  make  it  wise, that  you  should  set  out  instantly.  So 
order  out  your  horses,  and  get  into  your  carriage  the  very  day  you  get  this  letter,  and 
I  will  look  for  you  within  the  week.  Your  English  king  is  here  ;  but  the  Duke  of  York, 
who  entre  nous  is  much  more  to  my  taste,  is  absent  with  the  army :  so  are  the  most 
part,  and  the  best,  of  your  countrymen;  except  a  dozen  noble  buffoons  and  profligates, 
noisy  without  gayety  and  vicious  without  wit,  who  are  King  Charles's  familiar  friends. 
One  of  your  braves  is  here,  however,  and  we  are  all  mad  with  admiration  of  him.  He 
was  a  little  wounded  at  Rethel  on  the  Aisne,  and  invalided  for  a  time ;  so  they  have 
given  him  a  company  in  the  Garde  Royale.  He  wears  his  arm  in  a  broidered  scarf; 
but  the  ladies  say  it  is  but  to  render  himself  more  interesting,  which  is  needless,  for  by 
all  accounts  he  is  beau  comme  un  ange  !  I  suppose  I  need  scarcely  add  that  this  cava- 
lier parfait  is  no  other  than  the  Major  Wyvil,  concerning  whom  I  have  so  often  written 
to  you.  Adieu — a  thousand  remembrances  to  your  dear  father.  Now  come  at  once  ; 
for,  since  I  know  that  I  can  have  you  here  so  easily,  je  me  desole  without  you. 
"  In  the  sweet  hope  of  soon  embracing  you, 

"Yours,  ever,  ever, 

"HENIUETTE  DE  GONDI. 
"  Hotel  de  Gondi,  Fanbourg  St.  Germain,  October  26." 

She  had  scarcely  finished  reading  these  two,  to  her,  most  interesting  letters,  when, 
disturbed  from  his  meditations  and  studies  by  the  exclamations  of  the  great  loyal  mob, 
which  had  been  constantly  increasing,  ever  since  the  arrival  of  the  courier,  her  father 
entered  the  room  in  his  sad-colored  morning  gown,  carrying  in  his  hand  an  open  vol. 
ume  of  Longinus,  with  an  air  of  extreme  dissatisfaction.  "  I  wish,  beyond  all  measure, 
that  we  could  leave  this  odious  town,"  he  began,  before  Alice  had  an  opportunity  of 
addressing  him  ;  "  I  never  have  had  a  moment's  quiet  from  sunrise  to  bed-time  ;  what 
with  poissardes  yelling  and  howling  through  the  streets  at  dawn — like  the  Eumenides  of 
Orestes,  and  fifty  thousand  other  trades  and  callings,  all  bellowing  out  their  miserable 
wares  ;  and  now,  since  nine  o'clock,  there  has  been  one  continuous  stream  of  madmen 
parading  to  and  fro  beneath  my  windows — I  verily  believe  that  this  must  be  Babel ; 


140  M  A  R  M  A  D  TJ  K  E     W  Y  V  I  L  ; 

and  that  the  confusion  of  tongues  was  nothing  more  than  causing  all  the  nations 
simultaneously  to  begin  speaking  French — for  I  am  quite  sure  of  this,  that  they  cannot 
understand  one  another.-  I  would  give  anything  in  the  world  to  quit  this  place,  even  if 
it  was  to  go  to  the  Bastilc." 

"I  am  sure,  then — I  am  very  glad,  my  dear  father,"  replied  Alice,  almost  laughing, 
•when  she  thought  of  the  long  protracted  annoyance  which  he  must  have  endured  before 
his  naturally  calm  and  placid  temper  was  worked  into  this  fume  and  ferment — "  very 
glad,  to  tell  you  that  you  can  leave  it  when  you  please  ;  within  two  hours  if  you  think 
proper." 

"  How  is  that,  Alice  ?  I  do  not  understand — what  is  it  ?  I  thought  we  could  not  go 
to  Paris  on  account  of  this  civil  war — the  people  are  mad,  I  believe,  all  the  world  over — 
for  it  seems  to  me  that  the  only  occupation  of  every  nation,  on  the  whole  face  of  the 
globe,  is  cutting  its  own  throat;  as  if  there  were  not  foreigners  and  strangers,  or  ene- 
mies as  they  call  them,  enough  to  kill — if  they  must  be  for  ever  killing." 

"  The  war,  however,  is  at  an  end,  father — I  have  just  received  one  letter  from 
Madame  dc  Gondi.  telling  me  that  the  king  and  all  the  court  have  returned  to  Paris, 
and  praying  us  to  set  forth  this  very  day." 

44  Well !  and  have  you  not  given  orders?  have  you  not  caused  the  carriage  to  be 
prepared  ?  have  you  not  directed  the  horses  to  be  harnessed  ?  I  am  sure  I  can  be  ready 
in  a  quarter  of  an  hour." 

"  I  do  not  doubt  it  in  the  least,"  said  Alice,  laughing  merrily ;  "  you  have  only  got  to 
change  your  morning  gown  for  your  black  velvet  doublet,  and  to  shut  up  that  volume 
of  Sycophron,  I  suppose  it  is — for  that's  the  hardest  book  in  the  world,  they  say — and 
then,  you  know,  you  would  be  ready  to  go  to  the  top  of  Mount  Caucasus." 

"  Now  you  are  laughing  at  me,  Alice — now  you  are  laughing  at  me  ;  and  this  is  not 
Sycophron  at  all,  but  Longinus  on  the  sublime  and  beautiful !  But  why  can  we  not 
set  forth  in  half  an  hour  ?" 

"  Oh  !  for  a  hundred  reasons,"  she  replied.  "  In  the  first  place,  because  ladies  can- 
not prepare  themselves  for  journeying  with  quite  so  much  rapidity  as  you  of  the  ruder 
sex — secondly,  because  we  have  got  to  send  to  the  bankers  for  some  money  to  pay  our 
bills,  and  to  pack  our  trunks  and  mails — and  lastly,  because  it  is  necessary  to  have  our 
passports  vises,  before  we  can  proceed  any  farther.  All  this,  however,  I  will  send 
Charles,  who  speaks  French  perfectly  well,  to  arrange  immediately ;  and,  if  you  will 
but  moderate  your  impatience  a  little,  we  will  set  off  this  afternoon.  But  you  must 
listen  to  be  now ;  for  I  have  much  to  tell  you  that  is  of  importance,  though  you  have 
been  too  much  excited  hitherto  to  listen  to  me.  I  have  another  letter — from  cousin 
Henry !  and  he  has  obtained  Cromwell's  promise  that  we  shall  both  receive  a  full  par- 
don, and  be  at  liberty  to  return  to  dear  Woolverton,  in  the  spring— is  not  that  good 
news,  father?  and  he  goes  on  to  say,  that  there  was  nothing  in  Captain  Wyvil's  letter  to 
his  kinsman  relating  in  the  least  degree  to  any  of  us  ;  and  that  the  whole  was  discovered 
from  his  letter  to  myself;  which  the  lord  general  blamed  the  council  exceedingly  for 
opening,  and  burnt,  as  soon  as  it  came  into  his  hands.  He  was  pleased  too  with  Captain 
Wyvil's  style  of  sentiments  and  tone  of  writing,  and  will  grant  him  a  pardon  likewise, 
if  he  ask  for  it,  on  parole  not  to  act  against  the  government.  So  everything,  you  see, 
is  going  to  end  happy." 

"  God  grant  it  may,"  answered  the  old  man  solemnly  ;  "  I  would  fain  once  again  see 
Woolverton,  before  I  die ;  but  there  is  on  my  mind  a  deep  impression,  I  know  not 
wherefore,  that  I  shall  not.  It  is,  however,  I  doubt  not,  only  an  old  man's  fancy.  And 
you  see  that  I  was  right  about  your  young  cavalier.  I  was  quite  sure,  it  was  not  in  the 
nature  of  things  that  he  could  be  so  base  a  villain  as  gratuitously  to  betray  those  who 
had  risked  their  lives  to  save  him.  But  I  will  go  and  arrange  my  books  and  papers, 
for  I  have  something  more  to  do,  you  saucy  one,  than  to  shut  up  this  one  volume  of 
Longinus — and  I  beseech  you  make  all  haste  you  can  with  your  preparations,  for  I  do 
evidently  desire  to  leave  this  noisy  town." 

« I  will— I  will  indeed,  dear  father,"  answered  Alice  ;  "  but  upon  my  word,  I  am 


OR,     THE     MAID'S     REVENGE.  141 

very  much  afraid,  that  in  going  to  Paris  you  will  only  exchange  a  small  tumult  for  a 
great  one.  The  people,  I  fancy,  from  Madame  de  Gondi's  letter,  are  madder  there 
than  anywhere  else  in  the  world." 

"  Ay  :  but  I  shall  not  be  forced  to  live  there  out  in  the  street,  which  I  might  as  well 
be  doing  as  occupying  that  miserable  little  room  looking  on  that  place.,  which  seems  to 
me  to  be  the  particular  resort  of  all  the  market-women,  and  knaves  and  swindlers  in 
Boulonge  ;  but  for  that  matter,  I  believe  the  whole  population  of  the  place  is  made  up 
of  the  three  species.  Besides,  there  are  some  great  Grecians  in  the  Sarbonne,  and  F 
shall  meet  with  some  one  fit  to  speak  to  upon  reasonable  subjects." 

"  That  is  to  say,  upon  the  most  unreasonable  subjects  in  the  world,"  said  she  laughing 
again  ;  "  but  I  am  glad  to  hear  that  you  anticipate  pleasure,  where  I  feared  you  would 
only  find  annoyance  :  but  I  wnTgo  now,  and  make  my  arrangements." 

This  was  soon  done  ;  and  immediately  after  dinner,  which  was  served  in  those  prim- 
itive days  about  noon,  they  set  forth  on  their  journey  with  their  own  horses  and  out- 
riders, and  a  French  courier  in  a  half  military  dress,  with  a  short  hanger  at  his  side  and 
a  gold-laced  chapeau,  perched  on  the  box  in  front  of  the  huge  and  cumbrous  vehicle. 
The  weather  was  lovely,  with  that  pure  blue  sky  which  indicates  the  existence  of  a 
slight  degree  of  frost ;  and  the  country,  though  not  in  itself  very  varied  or  attractive, 
looked  beautiful  to  eyes  which  had  been  long  confined  to  the  dull  range  of  dingy  streets 
of  the  small  seaport  town ;  particularly  as  it  was  now  decked  with  all  the  gay  and  various 
tints  of  autumn,  and  was  enlivened  by  the  glorious  sunshine,  which  poured  over  it  from 
the  unclouded  heaven.     Those  were  times,  when  journeys  were  not  made  with  the 
lightning-speed  of  steam-carriages  and  railways,  nor  even  with  the  less  wonderful  ra- 
pidity of  post-horses  and  light  chariots  ;  and  accordingly,  many  days  elapsed  before  they 
reached  the  neighborhood  of  the  metropolis.     Nothing  occurred,  however,  to  impede 
their  progress ;  no  accident  beyond  the  ordinary  casualties,  such  as  the  casting  of  a 
leader's  shoe,  or  the  breaking  of  a  wheeler's  trace,  befell  them ;  but  still  they  did  not 
meet  Madame  de  Gondi's  expectations,  if  she  indeed  looked  for  them,  as  she  said, 
within  the  week  in  which  they  started.     The  weather  still  continued  fine,  and  though 
it  was  in  some  sort  wearisome  to  be  confined  for  so  many  days  to  the  narrpw  compass 
of  a  carriage,  there  were  still  many  intervals  of  rest,  when  they  halted  at  noonday  in 
some  pleasant  hamlet,  or  at  some  comfortable  wayside  hostelry  to  bait  their  jaded  horses — 
there  was  still  much  to  see  that  was  new  and  strange  to  the  English  eyes  of  Alice  ;  and 
on  the  whole,  the  time  could  not  be  said  to  pass  unpleasantly.     As  for  her  father,  he 
having  taken  the  precaution  of  bringing  along  with  him  as  travelling  companions,  four 
or  five  volumes  of  the  most  obscure  and  difficult  Greek  authors,  it  made  very  little  dif- 
ference to  him  whether  he  was  rolling  heavily  over  the  deep  and  sandy  roads,  in  a 
tolerably  roomy  vehicle,  or  sitting  in  a  small  close  study.     Indeed,  he  once  or  twice  ex- 
pressed his  preference  of  the  carriage  to  the  lodging  he  had  vacated  at  Boulogne. 
Making  their  way  thus  daily  by  gentle  journeys,  it  was  late  in  the  afternoon  of  the 
ninth  day,  that  the  comparatively  crowded  state  of  the  roads  gave  notice  to  the  travellers 
that  they  were  beginning  to  approach  the  suburbs  of  the  gay  metropolis.     At  every 
mile,  the  number  both  of  carriages  and  passengers  increased  ;  now  they  would  pass  a 
rude  ox-cart  creaking  and  groaning  under  the  weight  of  huge  pipes  of  wine,  and  now 
they  would  in  turn  be  passed  by  some  gay  equipage  drawn  by  six  stately  horses  covered 
with  gilded  trappings,  with  outriders  in  gorgeous  liveries,  glittering  through  the  dust 
which  they  raised  in  their  rapid  transit — now  it  would  be  a  group  of  jovial  farmers  jog- 
ging home  after  disposing  of  the  produce  of  their  fields  or  dairies,  with  heavy  pockets 
and  light  hearts  ;  now  an  old  crone  plodding  along  with  her  panniers  full  of  eggs  or 
chickens,  on  the  slow  sober  palfry ;  and  now  a  gang  of  hideous-looking  beggars  with 
loathsome  sores  displayed  to  excite  compassion,  or  some  keen-witted  and  sharp  vis- 
aged  fry  of  youthful  rogues  and  swindlers,  with  ever  and  anon  a  gay  cavalier  with 
waving  plumes  and  jingling  spurs,  and  lace  and  embroidery  enough  on  their  doublets  to 
furnish  forth  a  warehouse,  dashing  impetuously  forward,  and  almost  trampling  the  lower' 
and  more  infirm  of  the  pedestrians  under  loot — or  a  gen-d'arme  of  the  police,  frownir11' 


142  MARMADTTKE 

from  beneath  the  shade  of  his  steel  cap,  on  the  known  face  of  some  incorrigible  and 
notorious  vagabond — or  spurring  furiously  along  with  belted  waist  and  leathern  dispatch, 
bag,  some  government  courier,  bearing  unconsciously  the  fate  of  nations  at  his  back. 
All  was  gay  bustle  and  excitement,  increasing  more  and  more,  as  they  drew  ni^her  to 
the  gates  of  Paris.  At  length,  they  came  so  near  that  they  might  see  the  huge  square 
towers  of  Notre  Dame  looming  up  clear  and  massive  above  the  house-tops,  and  hear  the 
humming  din  which  rises  from  the  vast  and  busy  throng  that  swarm  in  the  dense  streets 
of  the  great  metropolis — and  now  the  barrier  was  before  them  close  at  hand,  and  their 
courier  was  fumbling  already  in  his  portfolio  for  the  passports,  when  a  loud  ringing 
laugh,  distinctly  audible  above  the  clatter  of  several  horses'  feet  in  rapid  motion,  came 
to  the  ears  of  Alice  ;  and  the  next  moment,  as  she  leaned  forward  to  the  open  window, 
several  persons  galloped  past  the  carriage  at  an  extremely  rapid  pace.  The  foremost  was 
a  tall  and  splendidly-formed  girl,  with  large  and  rather  bold  black  eyes,  and  a  profusion 
of  long  jet  ringlets  falling  from  under  the  brim  of  her  green  velvet  riding  hat ;  she  was 
superbly  dressed  in  the  magnificent  fashion  of  the  day,  her  velvet  habit  all  laced  and 
braided  with  gold  cords,  and  slashed  with  satin,  and  the  housings  of  her  beautiful  horse, 
which  she  sat  fearlessly  and  managed  with  much  skill,  bedecked  with  embroideiy  and 
fringes  of  the  same  rich  material.  At  her  left  hand,  on  the  side  farthest  from  the 
carriage,  rode  a  fine  military-looking  man,  of  an  erect  and  stately  figure,  with  hair  as 
white  as  snow,  attired  in  a  rich  civil  suit ;  and  beyond  him  a  singularly  handsome  youth, 
of  a  dark  complexion,  with  an  expression  of  keen  vivid  daring,  clad  in  the  complete 
uniform  of  the  French  garde  a  cheval.  Three  or  four  servants  followed  in  scarlet  liv- 
eries, and  everything  bespoke  them  persons  of  quality  and  distinction ;  but  Alice  had 
not  time  to  observe  all  these  particulars  before  the  young  lady,  whose  eyes  had  encoun- 
tered her  own  as  she  passed  by,  exclaimed,  to  her  great  surprise,  in  English — for  her 
beauty  was  rather  of  an  Italian  or  Spanish  character — with  a  voice  very  musical  and 
sweet,  but  pitched  a  little  too  high,  "  Oh  !  father,  look — look  what  a  lovely  English  girl 
is  in  that  carriage  !"  and  instantly  directed  the  attention  of  the  whole  party  to  the  object 
of  her  admiration.  They  passed  so  rapidly,  however,  that  she  had  scarcely  time  to 
draw  back,  blushing  and  confused,  before  they  had  swept  onward.  The  moment  after- 
wards another  officer,  in  the  same  showy  uniform,  drove  by  the  window,  galloping  even 
more  rapidly  than  those  who  went  before,  as  if  trying  to  overtake  them,  and  calling 
loudly  after  them  to  wait  for  him.  He  too  spoke  English,  and  there  was  something  in 
the  tones  of  his  voice  that  induced  Alice,  who  had  shrunk  back  into  the  corner  of  the 
carriage,  to  look  forth  at  the  person.  One  glance  was  enough  to  show  her  the  keen 
aquiline  features,  the  bright  blue  eye,  and  the  soft  flowing  hair  of  her  affianced  lover 
— for  it  was  •  Wyvil — but  he  dashed  onward  without  seeing  her,  or  suspecting  that  the 
heavy  travel-stained  carriage  contained  any  one  with  whom  he  was  acquainted,  and  in 
a  moment  was  riding  by  the  side  of  the  dark  beauty. 

"  Oh  1"  Alice  cried,  while  he  was  yet  in  sight — "  oh  !  that  was  Captain  Wyvil  who 
rode  by  then." 

"  Was  it  ?  was  it,  indeed  ?  why  did  you  not  call  to  him,  Alice ;  you  might  have  done 
so  very  fitly,  for,  of  course,  he  did  not  see  you,  or  he  would  certainly  have  stopped." 

"  Oh,  no  ;  he  did  not  see  me,  I  know  that  quite  well,"  said  she ;  "but  he  rode  by  so 
very  fast  that  I  had  not  time — I  had  but  barely  recognized  him  before  he  was  gone  ; 
for  he  was  galloping  as  hard  as  he  could  to  overtake  one  of  the  most  beautiful  girls  I 
ever  saw  in  all  my  life,  who  had  cantered  on  before.  An  English  girl  she  was,  too,  for 
I  heard  her  speak  ;  but  very  dark,  with  coal-black  hair  and  eyes.  I  wonder  who  she 
was  ;  there  was  a  noble-looking  gray-haired  man,  whom  she  called  father,  by  her  side, 
and  a  handsome  young  French  officer ;  and  they  had  several  servants  in  rich  liveries  : 
they  must  have  been  persons  of  distinction."  * 

"  Well,  Alice,  it  will  not,  after  all,  make  so  much  difference,  for  we  will  find  out 
-  where  he  lives  to-morrow,  and  send  him  word  that  we  have  come  to  Paris,  and  doubt- 
less he  will  be  at  your  feet  in  a  minute.   But,  I  declare,  here  we  are  at  the  gates  already  !" 
'  A  few  minutes  passed  wliile  the  courier  was  parleying  with  the  gen.d'arme  on  duty, 


on,    THE    MAID'S    REVENGE.  143 

and  displaying  the  passports,  which  proved  to  be  correct,  and  then  they  drove  on  slowly 
through  the  ill-paved  and  narrow  streets  for  nearly  half  an  hour,  before  they  reached 
the'faubourg  whertin  was  situated  the  Hotel  de  Gondi — a  noble  pile  of  dark  red  brick 
with  a  courtyard  in  front,  to  which  a  stately  porte  cocherc  gave  access,  and  a  magnifi- 
cent facade  adorned  with  columns,  all  bearing  witness  of  the  wealth  and  dignity  of  the 
owner,  who  was,  indeed,  closely  connected  with  the  greatest  families  of  France;  the 
husband  of  the  lady  being  the  nephew  of  the  Duke  of  Retz,  and  cousin  to  the  cele- 
brated cardinal  of  that  name,  who,  after  having  opposed  the  queen-regent  and  her 
favorite,  Mazarin,  by  every  factious  means  imaginable,  had,  nevertheless,  played  his 
part  with  so  much  dexterity  and  skill,  that  now,  on  the  banishment  of  that  wily  minis- 
ter, he  had  contrived  to  ingratiate  himself  with  Anne  of  Austria  and  her  son,  from  whose 
hands  he  had  recently  received  the  cardinal's  hat,  which  he  had  so  long  coveted  in  vain. 
The  hall  of  the  hotel  was  crowded  with  lacqueys  in  superb  liveries  ;  and  a  tall  gray- 
headed  maitre  d'hdtel  hurrying  out  to  assist  Alice  to  descend  from  the  carriage,  and 
saying  that  he  presumed  he  had  the  honor  to  address  Mademoiselle  Selby,  escorted 
her,  bowing  at  every  landing-place,  up  a  magnificent  staircase  with  gilded  balustrades, 
and  the  walla  finely  painted  with  subjects  of  the  Odyssey  and  Iliad ;  and  through  a 
suite  of  stately  rooms,  all  furnished  in  the  superbly  massive  style  which  has  taken  its 
name  from  the  luxurious  monarch  in  whose  days  it  was  introduced,  with  cabinets  of 
buhl  and  marquetry,  gigantic  mirrors  in  huge  sculptured  frames,  arm-chairs  and  ottomans 
of  velvet  and  embroidery,  fine  pictures,  tapestry,  and  curtains  fringed  with  gold  ;  into 
the  boudoir  of  the  marquise.  But  the  Marchioness  de  Gondi  was,  by  far,  too  important 
a  personage,  both  in  her  own  estimation  and  the  opinion  of  her  friends,  to  be  intro- 
duced thus  at  the  fag.end  of  a  chapter. 


CHAPTER   XXVI. 

HE.VRIETTE  de  Gondi,  who  rose  from  the  deeply-cushioned  chair  in  which  she  was 
reclining,  with  her  hair  fully  dressed,  and  robed  in  a  superb  brocade,  was  a  tall  delicately- 
formed  fair-complexioned  woman  of  something  more  than  forty  years,  but  showing  few 
marks  either  in  face  or  form  of  the  time  that  had  passed  over  her.  Her  manner  was 
marked  by  much  affectionate  eagerness,  as  she  embraced  her  youthful  relative  repeat- 
edly and  very  warmly  ;  seeming  to  be,  and  in  truth  actually  being  delighted,  at  having 
it  in  her  power  to  receive  her.  Master  Selby,  whom  she  had  seen  many  years  ago,  she 
also  greeted  very  kindly  and  set  him  at  his  ease  in  a  moment;  but  with  Alice,  whose 
extreme  loveliness  took  her  quite  by  surprise,  she  was  evidently  charmed,  and  felt  that 
she  was  one  whose  perfect  manners  and  rare  beauty  would  reflect  honor  on  the  person 
who  should  introduce  her  to  the  court  of  that  gay  and  voluptuous  city. 

"  Now,  my  sweet  friend,"  she  cried,  "  how  happy  we  shall  be  all  here  together.  Upon 
my  word,  I  think  myself  much  obliged  to  this  good  Cromwell,  whom  all  your  English 
folks  are  cursing  so  unsparingly;  for  I  suppose  if  it  had  not  been  for  him,  we  should 
never  have  had  any  chance  of  seeing  you  here  in  France." 

"  But  you  will  be,  I  am  sure,  much  more  obliged  to  him,  when  you  know  that  he  has 
promised,  in  the  spring,  to  pardon  both  my  father  and  myself,  and  to  give  us  back  our 
estates ;  so  that  instead  of  looking  upon  this  as  a  sad  state  of  exile,  it  is  indeed  only  a 
pleasant  visit  to  a  dear  cousin,  and  a  pleasant  land." 

"  Of  course,  I  am  obliged  to  him  for  doing  anything  that  is  agreeable  to  you,"  answered 
Madame  de  Gondi ;  "  but  I  assure  you,  I  have  no  idea  of  parting  with  you  in  the  spring. 
Who  knows  but  some  of  our  gay  gallants  may  persuade  you,  as  they  did  my  dear 
mother,  to  stay  here  always  and  become  a  Frenchwoman  ?  Nay !  do  not  blush  so  deeply 
Alice,  for  I  was  only  jesting  ;  but  by  my  faith,  I  think  that  burning  blush  tells  something- 
farther  than  it  was  intended  to  reveal — tells  something  of  an  island  lover.  Well,  well ; 
if  it  must  be  so,  I  shall  not  repine,  provided  he  be  brave,  and  handsome,  and  well-born, 


144  MARMADUKEWYVIL; 

and  very  graceful  and  accomplished.  But,  on  my  word !  I  had  forgotten  what  I  had 
intended  to  ask  you  the  very  moment  you  came  in — what  it  was  that  you  could  possibly 
have  done  to  enrage  Cromwell  and  the  government  so  much  against  you  ?" 

"  Oh,  that  is  a  long  talk,  Madame  la  Marquise,"  interrupted  her  father;  who,  deeming 
it  incumbent  on  him  to  be  unusually  civil  during  this  first  interview  with  their  kind 
hostess,  had  kept  his  faculties  on  the  alert  for  a  space  that  was  quite  wonderful  to  Alice  ; 
"  but,  to  be  brief,  Alice  brought  to  the  house  a  young  cavalier,  whom  she  met  flying 
from  the  battle  ground  of  Worcester,  with  a  troop  of  rebels  at  his  heels ;  and  we 
sheltered  him — though  he  was  what  they  call  a  proclaimed  rebel,  whom  all  men  were 
forbid,  on  pain  of  death,  to  harbor  or  assist — until  he  made  good  his  escape  to  France. 
This  was  discovered  by  an  accident,  and  we  in  consequence  were  forced  to  fly,  and  our 
estates  were  sequestrated." 

"  To  France — to  France  did  he  fly  ?  then  you  will  meet  him — you  must  meet  him 
here  !  Ah,  now  I  understand  that  blush,  ma  belle  cousine,"  she  added,  looking  at  Alice 
with  an  arch  glance  ;  "  but  I  suppose  he  had  a  name,  this  cavalier  ?" 

"  He  had  indeed  a  name,  madame,"  said  Alice,  rallying  from  her  short  confusion,  and 
laughing  gayly  ; "  and  it  was  one  that  you  are  well  acquainted  with  already.  It  is  lucky 
too  for  me,  that  you  are  a  little  premature  in  your  conclusions ;  for  if  I  had  lost  my  heart 
to  him,  as  you  insinuate,  it  seems  I  should  have  had  to  dispute  his  with  almost  all  your 
beauties  here  in  France — perhaps  with  yourself,  cousin?" 

"  With  me  !  fidore  !  with  me,  who  am  already  an  old  woman  !  But  I  assure  you 
that  I  do  not  understand  at  all.  Who  is  he — pray  explain — who  is  he  ?" 

"  He  is  no  other  than  the  Captain  Wyvil,  of  whom,  for  some  time,  your  letters  have 
been  so  full !" 

'  The  Captain  Wyvil !"  exclaimed  Henriette  de  Gondi,  and  that,  too,  in  no  small 
astonishment — "  the  Captain  Wyvil !  and  you  have  never  even  once  mentioned  that 
you  knew  him  !  nor  has  he  said  one  word  of  your  assisting  him  to  fly  !" 

"  In  that,  madame,"  the  old  man  again  interrupted,  for  he  was  unwilling  that  Alice 
should  be  too  hardly  pressed,  "  he  did  but  act  with  common  prudence.  The  slightest 
mention  of  it  here  might  have  led  to  the  worst  consequences ;  and  the  same  reason  of 
course  justified  Alice  in  keeping  silent  to  you  on  the  subject ;  since  we  know  very  well 
how  often  couriers  are  intercepted  on  the  road,  and  robbed  of  their  dispatches." 

But,  although  she  said  nothing  more  upon  the  subject,  and  appeared  to  be  completely 
satisfied,  Henriette  de  Gondi  was  neither  deceived  nor  at  ease.  She  had  seen  much 
of  the  world,  and  that  too  in  its  most  pob'shed  and  artificial  phases ;  she  had  lived  for 
years  in  the  midst  of  that  high  and  courtly  society,  wherein  every  man  and  woman 
learned  to  conceal,  with  the  impenetrable  mask  of  smiles,  or  nonchalance,  or  smooth 
tranquility,  the  deepest  feelings  of  their  own  hearts,  and  at  the  same  time  to  peruse  the 
thoughts  and  inmost  sentiments  of  others,  from  the  most  trifling  and  superficial  indica- 
tions. Thus,  she  was  far  from  being  misled,  either  by  the  unconcerned  manner  which 
Alice  had  assumed,  or  by  the  explanation  given  by  her  father ;  but,  on  the  contrary,  was 
confirmed  in  her  first  opinion,  that  her  cousin  did  love  the  gay  young  officer  whose  life 
she  had  preserved,  although  her  mind  was  crossed  by  many  a  suspicion  as  to  his  worthi 
ness  of  her  affection.  She  said  nothing  in  reply,  but  sat  for  a  few  minutes  quietly 
musing  on  what  course  she  ought  to  pursue  ;  for  rumors  had  been  spread  broadly  enough 
to  reach  her  ears,  concerning  the  attentions  which  were  paid  with  so  much  assiduity  by 
Marmaduke  to  the  fair  Isabella  Oswald,  and  received  by  her  with  so  evident  pleasure ; 
and  she  thought  to  herself,  and  thought  rightly,  "  This  beautiful  English  girl,  brought  up 
from  her  childhood  in  the  solitude  of  a  country  life,  is  just  the  being  to  conceive  a  ro- 
mantic passion,  and,  that  disappointed,  to  be  a  blighted  and  heart-broken  thing  for  ever;" 
and  doubting  very  much  whether  Wyvil  cared  anything  for  her,  she  began  to  think 
whether  it  was  not  her  duty  to  caution  her  against  him.  But,  after  a  few  moments  of 
consideration,  she  felt  as  yet  that  it  was  too  delicate  a  step  to  take  lightly,  and  that  it 
was  not  warranted  by  anything  beyond  a  mere  suspicion.  She  resolved,  therefore,  to 
lot  matters  take  their  own  course,  reserving  to  herself  the  power  of  watching  closely, 

ad  interfering  the  moment  interference  should  seem  necessary. 


6k,    THE    MAID'S    REVENGE.  145 

Meanwhile,  for  it  was  rapidly  growing  dark,  candles  were  brought  in,  and  the  fine 
suite  of  rooms  brilliantly  lighted  up.  Then  coffee,  at  that  time  a  rare  and  exceedingly 
expensive  luxury,  was  introduced ;  and  Henriette  de  Gondi,  telling  her  guests  that  she 
expected  a  few  visitors  in  the  evening,  and  consigning  Master  Selby  to  the  care  of  her 
maitre  d'hotel  who,  she  said,  would  install  him  in  a  pleasant  suite  of  chambers  com- 
municating with  the  library,  proceeded  to  introduce  Alice  to  the  mysteries  of  a  Parisian 
toilet ;  trifling  and  laughing  merrily  the  while,  and  striving  to  entertain  her  fair  cousin 
with  all  the  gay  and  lively  gossip,  which  formed  the  conversation  of  the  court  circles. 
Many  things  there  were  in  those  light  anecdotes,  that  excited  the  unmitigated  wonder, 
many  that  called  forth  the  deep  loathing,  not  all  unmixed  with  indignation,  of  the  sweet 
English  girl ;  who,  unsophisticated  by  the  false  sophistries  of  fashionable  life,  nurtured 
in  grave  and  pure  seclusion,  whither  the  very  name  of  unblushing  sin  had  scarcely 
penetrated  ;  brought  up  in  perhaps  the  most  moral  age  of  the  most  moral  country  in  the 
world,  could  not  hear  crimes,  such  as  her  uncontaminated  soul  had  scarcely  conceived 
possible,  named  as  things  of  usual  and  every  day-occurrence: — chastity  treated  as  a  mar- 
vel, and  virtue  as  a  fiction  or  a  jest.  It  was  not  that  Henriette  de  Gondi  was  herself 
light,  or  frail,  or  vicious ;  nor  yet  that  society  had  reached  that  abyss  of  infamy,  into 
which  it  sank  headlong  in  the  days  of  Louis  Fifteenth,  and  still  more  during  the  frantic 
horrors  of  the  Revolution ;  but  that  already  it  had  become  no  rare  or  extraordinary  fact 
for  married  women  to  have  favored  lovers,  and-  for  married  men  to  court  girls  of  rank, 
and  win  them  to  become  their  mistresses,  and  that  too  without  losing  caste  or  station. 
Now,  it  is  very  true,  that  something  of  all  this  had  penetrated  even  to  the  pure  ears  of 
Alice  ;  for  it  had  become  somewhat  common  in  puritanic  England  to  rail  loudly  at  the 
vices  and  the  crimes  of  the  neighboring  kingdom — vices  and  crimes  which  she  was 
about  to  imitate,  even  to  exaggeration,  under  the  third  and  basest  of  the  unhfppy  and 
doomed  Stewarts.  But  though  she  knew  that  such  things  were,  it  had  never  so  much 
as  entered  her  imagination  that  they  could  be  matters  of  daily  comment,  laughed  at, 
and  jested  over,  and,  if  unapproved,  at  least  uncondemned,  by  the  lips  of  virtuous  and 
noble  ladies.  It  was  not  long,  therefore,  before  Henriette  perceived  in  the  downcast  eye 
raised  suddenly  and  opened  wide  with  wonder,  in  the  averted  head  and  crimson  blushes 
of  her  innocent  guest,  how  much  she  was  dismayed,  and  it  must  be  said,  disgusted 
likewise,  by  the  freedom  of  her  anecdotes,  and  the  whole  tone  of  her  conversation. 

"  You  must  not  imagine,  now,"  she  said,  as  Alice  turned  away  in  irrepressible  dis- 
approbation at  some  tale  of  guilt  and  infamy,  "  that  I  think  lightly  of  these  shocking 
things,  or  speak  of  them  because  I  find  pleasure  in  the  recital.  Far  from  it,  dearest 
cousin ;  for  in  mere  truth  I  hate  and  loathe  them,  even  as  I  can  see  that  you  do.  Praise 
be  to  Heaven !  the  foulest  and  most  ribald  tongue  in  all  France  does  not  so  much  as 
breathe  a  whisper  adverse  to  the  fair  fair  fame  of  Henriette  de  Gondi,  as  maid,  or  wife, 
or  widow.  Oh  no,  dear  girl,  I  only  spoke  to  set  you  on  your  guard  ;  for  you  will  hear 
these  things  talked  over  freely,  not  only  by  the  frail  and  the  licentious,  but  by  the  good 
and  virtuous  and  noble ;  by  those  who  would  die  sooner  than  sink  their  souls  to  the 
the  degrading  blight  of  sin ;  and  spoken  of  by  all  in  the  same  tone  of  gay  and  thought- 
less raillery.  1  mdge  it  best  to  make  you  know  all  this  at  once,  that  you  may  see  at 
once  how  it  behoves  you  to  deal  with  it.  Nay !  do  not  interrupt  me,  do  not  interrupt 
me,  cousin ;  I  do  not  for  a  moment  mean  that  you  should  think  or  speak  of  these  things 
as  we  do  here  ;  but  I  would  have  you  learn  to  repress  that  look  of  wonder  mixed  with 
hatred,  to  check  that  unsophisticated  start,  to  keep  down  those  bright  blushes ;  for  this 
is  a  wicked  and  ill-judging  world  in  which  we  live,  and  by  the  people  you  will  meet 
here  on  all  sides,  such  indications  will  be  considered  only  as  the  result  of  consciousness 
and  prudery,  or  of  a  desire  to  attract  notice  and  woo  admiration  for  superior  virtue. 
You  must  just  hear  such  things,  and  hear  them  as  if  they  had  not  been  spoken,  calmly 
and  coldly,  without  smiling  on  the  one  side,  or  bridling  or  blushing  on  the  other.  I 
shall  of  course  take  care  to  keep  aloof  from  you,  so  much  as  I  can  do  so,  those  whom 
you  would  deem  unfit  associates,  whether  as  gentlemen  or  ladies.  None  come  to  my 
poor  house  but  persons  of  repute  ;  still,  as  I  said  just  now,  you  will  hear  much  that  will 
pain  you,  and  that  might  cause  you  grave  mortification,  if  you  do  not  take  my  advice  " 

7 


146  MARMADTTKEWYVTL; 

"Oh!  dear  Madame  de  Condi,"  Alice  replied,  half  crying,  "I  had  so  much— much 
rather  live  here  with  you  in  private,  and  in  quiet  while  we  remain  in  Paris.  Consider, 
I  am  nothing  but  a  mere  country  girl,  perfectly  unfit  to  associate  with  these  people ;  I 
shall  only  commit  some  absurdity,  and  bring  mortification  upon  you,  and  shame  upon 
myself.  Oh !  no,  no  ;  I  can  never  mix  with  such  people  as  you  talk  of — I  should  be 
utterly,  utterly  wretched !  in  truth  you  must  excuse  me." 

"  Impossible,  my  dear  girl,  impossible  indeed  !"  replied  Henriette  ;  "  in  every  way  it 
is  quite  impossible  that  I  should  excuse  you.  In  the  first  place  I  do  not,  and  I  cannot 
live  in  private  or  quiet — my  birth,  my  station,  and  the  state  of  the  times  forbid  it.  You 
see,  Alice,  though  I  am,  as  was  my  most  excellent  late  lord,  a  zealous  loyalist,  all  the 
rest  of  our  house  are  more  or  less  disaffected  ;  and  though  the  Cardinal  de  Retz  has 
just  received  the  hat  from  the  young  king,  and  is  for  the  present  in  high  favor  with  the 
court,  there  is  no  telling  how  long  it  may  last ;  he  is  always  plotting  and  conspiring  for 
one  thing  or  other,  and  just  as  like  as  not  before  six  weeks*  he  may  find  himself  in  the 
Bastile.  It  will  be  known,  moreover — nay,  I  might  say,  it  is  known  even  now,  that  I 
have  guests  from  England  residing  in  my  house.  If,  therefore,  I  should  absent  myself 
from  court  at  present,  or  going  thither  fail  to  have  you  presented  likewise,  it  would 
forthwith  be  suspected  every  where,  and  rumored  that  your  father  and  yourself  belonged 
to  the  rebel  English  party  ;  since  all  your  royalist  countrymen  are  at  the  present  time  in 
high  favor  with  the  court;  and  affect  to 'frequent  it  constantly,  to  show  their  gratitude 
for  our  king's  kindness  to  the  exiled  majesty  of  England.  It  is  impossible,  therefore,  that 
I  can  either  shut  my  house  up  during  your  stay,  or  suffer  you  to  remain  in  seclusion. 
The  consequences  of  such  a  step  might  be  of  serious  evil  to  me,  Alice  ;  and  I  am  sure 
you  woukl  net  subject  me  to  that,  and  only  to  avoid  a  little  temporary  inconvenience  !" 

"  That  would  I  not,  indeed,"  exclaimed  Alice,  eagerly — "  that  would  I  not  for  the 
whole  world  ;  but  it  seems  to  me,  indeed,  that  there  is  a  want  of  principle  even  in  lend- 
ing countenance  to  such  things — besides,  1  am  certain  that  I  never  could  act  as  you  bid 
me ;  it  is  so  different  from  anything  that  I  have  ever  been  used  to,  so  utterly  abhorrent 
to  the  usages  of  England — " 

"  Oh,  yes ;  that  is  quite  true,"  answered  M  adame  de  Gondi ;  "  but  believe  me,  my 
dear  girl,  it  will  not  do  for  us  to  go  about,  like  the  knight-errantry  of  old,  attempting  to 
bully  the  world  into  reform ;  if  we  do  that  which  is  right  ourselves,  and  set  a  good 
example,  quietly,  by  our  own  conduct,  we  play  the  best,  nay,  the  only  part  that  is  fit 
for  women.  As  for  the  rest,  mere  difference  of  custom  between  two  countries,  by  no 
means  really  implies  that  the  usages  of  this  are  absolutely  right,  or  of  that  absolutely 
wrong.  And  in  the  present  instance,  Alice,  much  as  I  deprecate  the  over-lightness, 
the  real  and  still  more  the  affected  depravity  of  France ;  I  am  not  quite  sure  that  the 
puritanical  hypocricy,  the  fierce  fanaticism,  the  stern  untolerating  hardness  of  religion, 
which  is  at  present  worn  in  England — 1  fear  me,  as  a  cloak  to  much  secret  vice — is  not  the 
worse  and  more  dangerous  evil.  But  we  have  not  the  time  to  discuss  these  grave  and 
serious  matters,  for  I  perceive  by  the  sound  of  wheels  and  the  glare  of  flambeaux  in  the 
courtyard,  that  some  of  my  guests  have  arrived — and  your  toilet  is  finished  ;  really, 
you  are  mise  a  ravir  ;  I  had  no  idea  that  the  English  had  attained  so  much  skill  in  the 
science  of  dressing.  Come,  come  now,  I  will  take  care  that  you  shall  meet  no  annoy, 
ance." 

With  these  words  she  took  Alice  Selby  under  her  arm,  and  walking  down  the  grand 
staircase,  now  splendidly  illuminated,  entered  through  several  ante-chambers — so  filled 
with  liveried  lacqueys,  and  magnificently-dressed  upper-servants,  that  Alice  fancied 
herself  in  some  royal  palace — a  brilliant  drawing-room,  all  glittering  with  marquetry, 
and  buhl,  and  georgeous  mirrors,  wherein  were  reflected  fifty-fold  from  sconce  and 
chandelier  the  gay  and  cheerful  lights  which  made  the  great  saloon  almost  as  bright  as 
day.  The  several  guests  had  already  gathered  ;  and,  with  the  easy  and  unformal  grace 
which  characterized  then,  as  it  does  at  the  present  day,  the  domestic  reunions  of  French 

»  It  will  be  seen,  by  reference  to  history,  that  this  opinion  of  the  lady  was  justified  in  all  respects  excel*  the 
place  of  his  imprisonment.  He  was  arrested  aud  sent  to  Vincennet  on  the49th  of  December,  1652. 


6ft,     THE     MAID*S     REVENGE.  147 

society,  had  fallen  into  various  groups,  chatting,  and  laughing,  and  pleasing  each  one 
the  other,  without  effort  or  constraint  or  marked  desire  to  please.  The  company  assem- 
bled were  not  many  in  number,  not  exceeding  a  dozen  or  fifteen  persons,  all  splendidly 
dressed,  some  in  gay  uniforms,  others  in  gorgeous  civil  dresses,  all  fluttering  with  rich 
lace  and  bright  ribbons,  and  glitering  with  embroideries  ;  and  these  were  grouped  in 
different  seats  upon  the  numerous  ottomans  and  couches,  which  filled,  according  to  the 
fashion  of  the  day,  the  large  saloon  with  their  luxurious,  though  somewhat  cumber- 
some variety.  Among  these  there  were  but  three  ladies  ;  one — to  whom  Madame  de 
Gondi,  sliding  as  it  were  inperceptibly  into  companionship  with  her  visitors,  made 
Alice  known,  as  Madame  de  Maignelai — a  singularly  venerable-looking  person,  ad- 
vanced considerably  in  years,  but  with  a  calm  beneficent  placidity  of  feature  that  made 
her  appear  almost  beautiful,  was  engaged  in  conversation  .with  the  good  Bishop  of 
Lisieux ;  well  suited  to  be,  what  indeed  they  were,  intimate  friends  and  associates,  as 
being  at  that  time,  perhaps,  the  two  most  virtuous  and  unpretending  and  truly  pious  per- 
sons in  the  French  king's  dominions ;  and  by  her  the  young  English  girl  was  received  with 
a  tenderness  of  manner,  a  motherly  air  of  unforced  protection,  mat,  while  it  set  her  com- 
pletely at  ease,  went  far  to  induce  her  to  believe  Madame  de  Gondi's  late  remarks  upon 
society  exaggerated  and  undue.  After  a  few  words  had  been  interchanged,  relative  to 
the  cause  of  her  new  friend's  visit  to  the  French  metropolis,  the  length  of  time  that  had 
elapsed  since  her  arrival,  and  such  inductive  topics — "  I  suppose,  then,"  said  the  good 
old  lady,  "  that  you  have  but  a  few  acquaintance  here  among  us  ?" 

"  Very  few,  very  few  indeed,  madame,"  Alice  replied  ;  "  or  I  might  almost  say  none 
at  all ;  for  except  my  cousin  Henriette,  and  yourself,  and  Monsieur  de  Lisieux,  I  do  not 
believe  there  is  a  person  in  all  France  whom  I  have  ever  seen,  unless  it  be  some  of  my 
countrymen  who  have  been  forced  to  take  refuge  here  from  the  persecution  of  all  these 
civil  wars  and  conspiracies  at  home." 

"  Yes,  you  will  see  many  of  these  here  ;  they  are  all  in  great  favor  at  the  court,  since 
your  young  Duke  of  York  has  so  distinguished  himself  with  our  own  good  marechal. 
But,  to  say  truly,  I  know  but  few  of  them  ;  and,  in  the  mean  time,  I  must  point  out  to 
you  some  of  our  great  people,  for  we  have  here  several  celebrities.  There,  do  you  see 
that  gentleman  in  purple  velvet  with  a  brigh  star,  who  wears  a  shade  over  both  eyes  ? 
that  is  Monsieur  de  la  Rochefoucault,  one  of  the  kings  best  officers  ;  a  very  strange  mis- 
fortune befell  him  in  the  terrible  battle  which  was  fought  last  July,  under  the  very  walls 
of  Paris,  and  in  the  fauxbourg  St.  Antonie  ;  while  he  was  in  the  very  act  of  carrying  a 
barricade,  a  bullet  entered  at  the  corner  of  one  eye  and  came  out  at  the  corner  of  the 
other ;  and  what  is  more  extraordinary  yet,  is  that  you  see  him  there  alive,  and  that  he 
sees  quite  well,  though  for  a  time  all  the  physicians  declared  that  he  would  certainly 
be  blind.  That  lady  to  whom  he  is  talking  so  merrily,  she  with  her  hair  dressed  high 
— it  is  the  new  mode  called  le  tour,  but  I  must  say  I  think  vastly  unbecoming — is  the 
celebrated  Madame  de  Lesdignieres,  a  very  great  politician,  and  some  people  say  as 
great  an  intriguer,  but  people  are  ill-natured  ;  she  is  rising  now  to  go  and  meet  the  car- 
dinal — that  is  the  Cardinal  de  Retz  who  is  entering  now,  who  has  been  at  the  bottom  of 
every  plot  and  conspiracy  since  he  was  fifteen ;  the  enemy  of  Richelieu  and  of  Mazarin, 
the  wittiest  if  not  the  wisest,  and  the  most  gallant  man  and  the  greatest  favorite  of  the 
people  in  all  Paris.  He  is  the  cousin,  too,  of  your  Madame  de  Gondi,  so  you  will  neces- 
sarily be  presented  to  him  ;  and  that — that  who  is  following  the  cardinal,  he  with  the 
singularly  intellectual  face,  not  handsome,  but  instinct  with  soul ;  that  is  the  Duke  de 
Bouillon,  the  brother  of  the  Marechal  Turenne.  De  Retz  said  of  him,  the  other  day, 
'  that  he  was  sure,  by  what  he  had  seen  of  his  conduct,  those  people  did  wrong  to  his 
reputation  who  decried  it ;  but  that  he  did  not  know  if  those  did  not  do  too  much  honor 
to  his  abilities  who  thought  him  capable  of  all  the  great  things  which  he  did  not  do :' 
so  very  shrewd  and  clever  are  his  speeches  always,  pointed  and  terse,  but  cutting !  But 
see,  here  comes  your  cousin  to  make  you  know,  I  am  sure,  the  cardinal.  lie  will 
answer  you  better  far  than  I  can ;  but  believe  me,  dear  young  lady,  should  you  over 
•want  a  friend,  which  I  hope  you  will  not,  you  will  find  one  in  de  Maignelai," 


148  MARMADT7KE     WYVIL* 

As  she  spoke  Henriette  did  indeed  come  up,  and  with  the  intent  as  the  good  dowager 
foresaw,  of  bringing  her  young  relative  somewhat  more  prominently  before  her  guests, 
now  that  she  judged  her  to  be  in  some  degree  at  least  set  at  her  ease,  and  superior  to 
that  timidity,  which  in  those  circles  would  have  appeared  an  absurd  affectation,  and 
she  was  not  disappointed;  for  so  prepossessing  was  the  peculiar  style  of  Alice's  young 
English  beauty,  so  graceful  and  so  quiet  were  her  manners,  and  above  all  so  fluently 
and  well  did  she  converse  in  the  French  tongue,  that  before  long  she  found  herself 
listening,  and  laughing  at  the  jests  and  repartees  of  those  whose  names  were  history, 
and  playing  her  part  in  the  social  circle,  as  if  she  had  lived  with  them  all  her  life. 
Presently  supper  was  announced,  and  in  a  few  minutes  all  were  seated  at  a  round  table, 
then  deemed  the  very  mode,  as  bringing  all  the  guests  into  one  common  circle,  covered 
with  all  the  choicest  dainties  of  the  French  cuisine  already  famous  the  world  over ; 
Alice,  supported  on  the  one  hand  by  the  young  comte  de  Bellefonds,  celebrated  as  the 
handsomest  cavalier  in  France,  and  on  the  other  hand,  by  the  great  cardinal  himself. 
He,  ever  and  anon,  in  the  intervals  of  the  stream  of  intrigue  and  finesse  which  he  was 
pouring  into  the  ears  of  Madame  de  Lesdignieres,  found  leisure  to  indulge  in  some  of 
ms  oi^h*  apothegms  and  quick-polished  sarcasms,  replete  with  knowledge  of  the  human 
race,  and  intuitive  perception  of  character,  to  the  delight  of  Alice,  whose  ready  appre- 
ciation had  charmed  in  no  less  degree  the  politic  and  wily  churchman.  "  Turenne  ?" 
he  said  suddenly,  in  answer  to  some  question  of  the  young  English  girl—"  Turenne  ? 
what  do  you  say  about  him  ?  Great  ?  yes,  indeed — he  has  possessed  from  his  youth 
every  good  quality,  and  at  an  early  age  acquired  every  great  one.  He  wants,  now, 
but  those  of  which  he  is  not  aware.  He  has  every  virtue,  but  the  glitter  of  none — 
however,  people  believe  him  abler  at  the  head  of  an  army  than  of  a  faction,  and  I  believe 
so  too,  because  he  is  not  naturally  enterprising — and  yet,"  he  added,  somewhat  thought- 
fully— "  and  yet  who  knows  ?"  and  then  after  a  little  pause — "  but  enough  of  Turenne," 
lie  said,  "  maintenant  vive  la  bagatelle — champagne,  here  give  us  champagne  ;"  and 
filling  his  own  and  his  fair  neighbor's  glass,  he  bowed  with  the  same  gay,  witty  com- 
pliment, and  turned  away  again  to  talk  with  the  intriguing  Frenchwoman,  by  whose 
means  he  was  so  soon  afterwards  consigned  to  the  dungeons  of  Vincennes.  Just  at 
this  moment,  while  mirth  was  at  the  loudest,  a  noble-looking  man  dressed  in  the  full 
uniform  of  the  French  guard,  carrying  his  hat  and  unbuckled  sword  in  his  left  hand, 
entered  the  saloon,  and  gliding  up  to  the  side  of  Madame  de  Gondi,  began  to  apologize 
for  the  lateness  of  his  visit ;  and  then  took  possession  with  easy  grace  of  the  first  vacant 
seat,  and  applied  himself  to  entertain  the  blind  lady,  who  was  no  other  than  the  famous 
Marchioness  of  Villeu. 

"  Hold  !  Villequier,"  exclaimed  the  young  Count  of  Bellefonds.  "  What  has  kept 
you  so  late,  you  who  are  so  great  an  adorer  of  bright  eyes,  and  sparkling  goblets  ?" 

"  Oh,  we  had  a  little  fracas  at  the  Louvre,"  answered  the  captain  of  the  queen's 
guard,  for  such  was  the  rank  of  the  new  comer  ;  "  and  I,  of  course,  was  obliged  to  wait 
till  everything  was  settled." 

"  A  fracas  1"  exclaimed  several  voices,  not  without  some  astonishment,  for  in  those 
days  conspiracy  trod  so  close  on  the  heels  of  conspiracy,  that  the  appetites  of  men  were 
sharply  set  for  novelties  and  horrors — "  A  fracas  !  what  was  it  ?  tell  us  all — quick  ! 
quick  !  good  Villequier ;  was  it  the  Duke  6f  Orleans  ?"  and  loudest  among  the  speakers 
was  heard  the  voice  of  de  Retz. 

"  My  good  lord  cardinal,"  replied  Villequier,  laughing,  "  appears  to  be  beside  him- 
self, at  learning  that  there  has  been  a  fracas  and  he  not  in  it !  No,  no,  my  good  lord," 
he  continued,  as  the  laugh,  which  his  retort  had  created,  again  subsided  ;  "  it  was  not 
his  grace  of  Orleans,  nor  was  there  any  treason  in  the  matter  ;  nor,  what  is  more  sur- 
prising, even  sedition.  It  was  but  a  quarrel  between  two  of  these  English  bulldogs, 
whom  our  young  king  so  much  affects  just  now.  I  thought  they  would  have  cut  each 
other's  throats  in  the  palace  yard !" 

"  Who  were  they  ?  Villequier,  what  was  it  all  about  ?" 

«  Oh  1  they  are  so  ready  with  the  sword  that  it  is  not  easy  to  say  even  what  it  is 
about ;  small  cause  suffices,  but  in  this  case  it  was  a  woman," 


OR,     THE     MAID'S     REVENGE.  149 

"  Of  course — of  course  it  was,"  replied  la  Rochefoucault,  with  a  loud  laugh ;  "  there 
never  was  a  quarrel  yet  but  what  there  was  a  woman  at  the  bottom  of  it ;  but  come, 
expound — who  was  the  woman  ?" 

"  A  wondrous  fair  one,"  replied  Villequier,  "  to  my  thinking ;  no  other  than  the 
beautiful  Oswald." 

"  Then  I  can  name  one  of  the  combatants,"  exclaimed  Bellefonds. 

"  And  I,"  "  and  I,"  "  and  I,"  three  other  voices  chorused  him,  the  last  adding,  "  one 
was  your  new  made  captain  of  the  guards.  But  who  was  the  other  ?" 

"  Whom  do  you  guess  ?  No  !  you  will  never  guess  at  all ;  so  I  may  just  as  well  tell 
you — Sir  Henry  Oswald  !  what  do  you  think  of  that  now  ?" 

A  dozen  of  the  fashionable  oaths  and  exclamations  of  the  day  testified  the  surprise 
of  all  who  heard  it ;  the  ladies,  who  hitherto  had  taken  but  small  share  in  the  conversa- 
tion, becoming  all  alive  with  the  excitement  of  curiosity  and  envy.  But,  while  all  else 
were  asking  every  kind  of  question,  Madame  de  Gondi  was  employed  in  watching  the 
pale  and  varying  features  of  her  cousin ;  who,  though  it  was  evident  that  she  had  not 
altogether  understood  what  was  passing,  was  not  so  dull  but  her  suspicions  were  excited. 

"  I  cannot  tell  you  all,  or,  indeed,  much  about  it.  I  was  called  in  to  take  them  both 
in  custody,  after  they  had  been  parted  by  the  men  on  duty  on  the  grand  staircase.  Sir 
Henry  was,  it  seems,  coming  down  from  the  saloon,  where  there  was  a  small  court  party, 
having  heard  something  there  which  set  his  hasty  temper  in  a  blaze  ;  and  was,  I  fancy, 
going  in  search  of  the  very  man,  when  he  fell  in  with  him  ascending  ;  and,  without 
waiting  to  get  out  of  the  palace,  gave  him  hard  words,  called  him  a  penniless  adven- 
turer, a  swaggering  sworder,  and  a  presumptuous  fool,  for  looking  up  to  the  peerless 
Isabella ;  and  afterwards,  when  the  other  would  have  turned  aside  his  anger  by  mild 
words,  he  broke  out  into  violence,  and  made  as  if  he  were  about  to  strike  him ;  but 
before  it  had  come  to  that  the  guards  seized  both  of  them,  so  that  neither  of  them  had 
time  to  draw  his  sword.  Then  I  was  called  in  and  took  them  both  in  charge  ;  but,  as  no 
blow  had  been  stricken,  upon  their  pledging  their  words  of  honor  that  the  thing  should 
go  no  further,  they  were  released,  after  they  had  been  in  the  guard-house  nearly 
two  hours  I" 

"But,  after  all  you  have  not  told  us  what  it  was  all  about,  Villequier?"  cried  one. 

"  Because  I  do  not  know  myself,"  answered  he,  laughing ;  "  but  I  heard  afterwards, 
that  some  of  Isabella's  other  suitors  told  the  old  man,  having  found  out  that  it  would  vex 
him,  that  Major  Wyvil  had  been  sometime  clandestinely  accepted  by  the  lady." 

At  the  word,  Alice,  who  had  been  listening  all  the  time,  with  all  her  soul  suspended 
on  the  tongue  of  the  speaker,  dreading  to  hear  at  every  moment  that  the  new-made 
captain  of  the  guards  was  indeed  Wyvil,  turned  pale  as  death  itself,  drew  a  long  painful 
sigh,  and  would  have  fallen  from  her  chair,  had  not  Madame  de  Gondi,  who  had  almost 
foreseen  what  was  about  to  happen,  sprang  forward  and  caught  her  in  her  arms ;  crying 
out  as  she  did  so,  "  Oh  !  Alice,  you  are  over-fatigued,  and  I  was  quite  wrong  to  tease 
you  into  coming  down  to  supper.  Run,  Francois,  run  and  call  my  woman — thank  you, 
thank  you,  lord  cardinal,  a  little  water  if  you  please — oh  !  that  is  right,  here  comes  Toi- 
nette  and  Vuleric — make  haste  now  but  be  careful — hold  up  her  head — that's  well — now 
carry  her  up  stairs  to  her  room ;  she  is  reviving  even  now.  Excuse  me  for  a  few  mo- 
ments," she  added,  returning  toward  her  guests  ;  "  Mademoiselle  only  arrived  to-day, 
having  came  all  the  way  from  Boulogne  Without  stopping — she  wished  to  lie  down  at 
once,  but  I  was  wrong  and  persuaded  her  to  come  down  stairs.  Amuse  yourselves,  I 
pray  you,  I  will  return  directly ;"  and  with  the  easy  grace  of  their  nation  they  promised 
that  they  would  do  so — and,  until  Madame  de  Gondi  had  retired,  appeared  to  resume 
their  conversation.  But  scarcely  was  she  well  up  stairs,  before  leaving  their  compliments 
with  the  mattre  d*  hotel,  they  quietly  and  singly  stole  away,  and  long  before  their  hos. 
tess  knew  it,  the  house  was  vacant  except  of  its  customary  dwellers. 


150  MARMADITKE     WYVIL; 

CHAPTER   XXVII. 

IT  was  some  time  before  poor  Alice,  despite  of  all  appliances,  returned  to  her  senses  ; 
and  had  it  not  been  for  the  prudence  of  Madame  de  Gondi — who  would  not  suffer  Mas. 
:er  Selby  to  be  disturbed ;  and  who,  on  one  pretence  or  other,  kept  Margaret,  Alice's 
zaithful  girl,  out  of  the  room,  retaining  her  own  woman  who  could  not  speak  or  under- 
stand one  word  of  English,  in  which  tongue  she  was  well  assured  her  cousin  would 
speak,  when  she  recovered — there  would  have  been  a  terrible  confusion,  and  the  whole 
matter  would  have  been  bruited  to  the  household.  At  length,  when  her  beautiful  form 
had  been  released  from  all  the  ligatures  that  confined  it,  her  temples  bathed  with  cold 
water,  and  stimulating  essences  applied,  she  stretched  out  her  arms,  heaved  a  long 
breath,  and  opened  her  fair  eyes,  but  with  that  bewildered  and  unconscious  expression, 
which  shows  the  senses  to  be  absent,  although  the  life  may  have  returned.  In  a  moment 
or  two,  indeed,  they  reclosed  for  a  little  space  ;  but,  when  she  opened  them  again,  it 
was  with  a  calm  and  more  intelligent  glance ;  and  she  pressed  her  cousin's  hands 
saying, 

"  J  shall  be  better  in  a  little  while — do  not  be  frightened — and  pray  do  not  tell  my 
father." 

"Oh,  no,  indeed!"  replied  Madame  de  Gondi;  "he  has  been  long  in  bed,  and  all 
our  guests  have  gone,  and  the  house  is  quite  quiet.  He  need  not  know  anything  about 
the  matter  ;  why  should  he  ?  It  was  only  the  fatigue  of  travelling  and  the  heat  of  the 
room." 

A  faint  and  sickly  smile  crossed  the  pale  lips  of  Alice,  and  she  half  shook  her  head ; 
but  her  cousin,  although  she  well  knew  what  she  meant,  was  resolved  not  to  understand 
her ;  and  after  remaining  with  her  till  the  night  was  far  advanced  toward  morning,  and 
seeing  her  fall  into  a  natural  and  quiet  sleep,  she  left  her  to  the  care  of  Margaret,  say- 
ing, She  doubted  not  she  would  be  quite  well  to-morrow. 

The  following  morning  rose  bright  and  joyous  ;  and  Alice,  as  Madame  de  Gondi  had 
foretold,  was  perfectly  well  as  regards  the  mere  health  of  the  body,  and  was  astir  before 
the  earliest.  For  when  Henriette,  who  herself  had  risen  some  hours  before  her  wonted 
time,  anxious  about  her  lovely  guest,  entered  the  chamber,  she  found  her  sitting  fully 
dressed  by  the  window,  with  her  head  leaning  on  her  hand  in  a  disconsolate  mood ;  the 
maiden  Margaret,  quite  overdone  with  watching,  outstretched  in  deep  sleep  on  a  sofa 
by  the  bed  which  her  mistress  had  so  long  deserted. 

"  Oh,  my  dear  Alice,  I  am  so  glad  to  see  you  up,  and  well  again !"  exclaimed  her 
cousin,  as  she  entered ;  "  I  was  afraid  you  might  still  feel  some  remains  of  your  in- 
disposition." 

"  No !  oh,  no !"  answered  poor  Alice ;  "  but  I  am  sure  I  need  not  tell  you  that  I  was 
not  indisposed  at  all." 

"  You  love  him,  then  ?"  said  Henriette,  but  rather  in  a  tone  of  question,  than  of 
positive  affirmation — "  you  do  then  love  this  Captain  Wyvil  ?  I  feared  so  from  the 
first!" 

"  I  saw  you  had  my  secret,  cousin,  and  I  am  but  a  poor  dissembler ;  besides,  J  am 
sure  you  will  never  speak  of  what  I  tell  you ;  and  in  good  truth  I  want  the  support  of 
a  female  adviser.  I  do  love  him." 

"  And  he  ?"  asked  Henriette. 

"  Is  my  affianced  husband ;  troth-plighted,  in  the  presence  of  my  father !"  Alice 
replied. 

Madame  de  Gondi  started  in  vehement  surprise  ;  for  she  had,  until  that  moment,  no 
possible  idea  that  matters  had  gone  on  to  such  a  length — and  she  paused  a  little  while 
before  she  made  any  answer ;  but  at  last  said,  "  I  would  be  loath,  my  sweet  Alice,  to 
raise  hopes — or,  I  should  rather  say,  renew  hopes — in  your  mind,  which  may  but  lead 
in  the  end  to  disappointment ;  but  it  appears  to  me  that  this  makes  all  the  difference. 
At  first  I  fancied  this  was  but  a  girlish  preference  of  yours— I  did  not  even  know  that 
he  returned  it." 


OR,     THE    MAID'S     EEVENGE.  151 

"  Madame  de  Gondi !"  interrupted  Alice,  her  pale  face,  and  her  whole  neck  and 
bosom  suffused  with  burning  blushes,  as  she  spoke  in  a  tone  of  grave  disappointment  ; 
"  and  did  you  think  so  meanly  of  poor  Alice  Selby,  as  to  deem  that  she  would  give 
her  love  unsought  .-" 

"  Indeed,  indeed  !"  answered  Henriette,  "  I  never  thought  at  all  of  Alice  Selby,  but 
as  one,  who  was  all  maidenly  modesty  and  virtue  ;  but,  trust  me,  dearest  one,  our  love 
is  not  always  our  own  to  give — nor  does  it  always  wait  for  asking.  But  suffer  me  to 
finish  what  I  was  about  to  say ;  that,  fancying  this  to  be  only  a  girlish  fancy,  I  doubted 
much  the  wisdom  of  that  fancy ;  seeing,  beyond  doubt,  that  this  Captain  Wyvil  is 
somewhat  famous  for  gallantry,  and  has  been  paying  much  attention  to  this  Mademoi- 
selle Oswald.  But  since  you  tell  me  that  i£  is  gone  so  far,  I  begin  to  believe  we  have 
been  too  hasty.  It  is  extremely  likely  that  all  this  has  been  mere  levity  ;  that  flattered 
and  amused  by  the  evident  liking  of  a  very  pretty  woman,  he  has  allowed  himself  to 
be  led,  as  a  sort  of  fashionable  victim,  both  parties  well  understanding  one  another  : 
for,  I  need  not  tell  you,  dear  Alice,  that  although  there  may  be  the  same  depth,  there  is 
by  no  means  the  same  singleness  of  love  in  the  men  as  in  us  women ;  and  that  full 
many  a  man  who  really  is  in  love,  and  that  constantly  and  truly  with  one  woman, 
deems  it  no  flaw  in  his  allegiance  to  make  love  to  another — merely  to  pass  the  time,  or 
to  amuse  himself  in  the  absence  of  his  mistress.  Therefore  we  must  not  be  too  quick 
in  judging — this  Paris  is  a  great  place  for  flirting  and  scandal ;  and  it  is  very  likely 
that  there  may  be  no  truth  in  this  at  all.  But  if  there  were — if  he  should  prove  so  vile 
and  infamous  a  traitor  ;  you  do  not  love  him  so  much,  Alice,  that  your  pride  would  not 
come  to  your  rescue,  and  that  you  would  not  shake  him  off,  as  a  thing  too  worthless 
for  a  moment's  lamentation?" 

"  Alas !  dear  lady,"  answered  poor  Alice  with  a  sigh,  "  should  it  be  so,  indeed  he 
would  have  robbed  me  of  all  the  friendship  of  my  soul ;  he  would  have  heaped  my 
heart  with  the  ashes  of  consumed  hope  and  happiness ;  he  would  have  covered  my 
young  days  with  desolation ;  he  would  have  taken  from  me  that  best  boon  of  nature — 
confidence  in  the  truth  of  our  fellows — but,  lady,  but — "  and  she  paused,  unable  to 
complete  the  sentence  ;  and  Henriette  took  it  up — 

"  But  you  would  love  him  no  more — is  it  not  so,  dear  Alice  ?" 

"As  woman  loves  but  once,"  she  answered,  clasping  her  hands  together,  "I  love 
him,  and  that  for  ever!" 

"A  very,  very,  woman !"  replied  Madame  de  Gondi,  with  a  smile ;  "neither  is  our 
task  an  easy  one — we  have  to  learn,  in  the  first  place,  whether  this  be  not  all  a  mere 
evanescent  fancy ;  and,  in  the  second,  if  the  wild  bird's  wings  have  been  lured  from  its 
true  owner  by  honied  words,  to  win  him  back  again  to  his  allegiance.  My  life  on  it ! 
and  these  bright  sunny  locks,  and  soft  blue  eyes,  will  wake  him  to  his  senses  in  a 
moment,  if  he  have  strayed  somewhat  in  your  absence.  Gratitude,  honor,  faith,  all 
bind  him  to  your  footstool.  Besides,  you  are  fairer  by  one  half  than  she,  and  twenty 
times  more  feminine ;  then  think  what  the  proverb  says  of  old — '  Ou  revient  toujours 
as  ses  premiers  amours.1  Oh,  be  sure,  Alice,  if  this  bright  Isabella  Oswald  has  won  him 
for  a  moment,  you  shall  retrieve  him  yet  more  easily  than  you  have  lost  him." 

"  I  would  die  sooner  than  attempt  it ;"  answered  Alice,  coloring  high,  and  speaking 
loud  with  the  energy  of  indignation.  "  I  win  him  back !  I  stoop  to  win  that  which  is 
mine  already  !  I  humble  myself  to  receive  back  a  pledge  which  he  has  forfeited !  No ! 
Henriette  de  Gondi,  no!  whom  Alice  Selby  marries  she  must  not  only  love,  but  respect, 
and  esteem,  and  honor!  Love  him?  alas  for  me  !  I  shall,  and  oh!  how  deeply — even 
to  my  dying  day — pray  for  his  happiness,  and  well-being,  and  honor ;  but  never  could 
I  respect,  or  esteem,  or  honor  one  whose  heart  could  swerve,  or  whose  faith  falter  I" 

"  What  would  you  do  then,  Alice,"  asked  her  cousin,  almost  crying  between  sym. 
pathy  and  excitement  -"  what  would  you  do,  my  sweet  Alice  ?" 

"  Pray  God  to  give  me  strength  to  bear  my  sorrows  meekly — and  bear  them,  and 
perhaps — die  Henriette." 

She  raised  her  voice  with  the  last  words  BO  loudly,  that  Margaret  was  arouaed ;  and 


152  MARMADTTKE     WYVlt; 

starting  up  from  the  sofa,  she  exclaimed,  as  she  rubbed  her  eyes,  "  Coming — I'm  coming, 
Mistress  Alice.    Did  you  call  ?" 

So  near  are  the  founts  of  tears  and  laughter,  that,  sad  although  she  was,  and  grieved 
at  heart,  Madame  de  Gondi  could  not  refrain  from  smiling  at  the  air  half-bewildered, 
half-terrified,  half-stupid,  of  the  English  maiden,  when  she  beheld  her  mistress  risen 
from  her  bed  and  dressed  without  her  assistance  ;  and  in  a  moment  Alice  joined  in  the 
mirth  which  her  quaint  excuses  and  apologies  called  forth,  although  it  was  but  for  a 
second,  when  she  relapsed  into  her  usual  repose  of  air  and  manner. 

"  We  will  talk  more  of  this  hereafter,  Alice,"  said  the  other.  "  Meanwhile,  let  Mar- 
gaiet  arrange  your  hair,  and  hurry  down  to  breakfast ;  for  Master  Selby,  I  doubt  not, 
is  even  now  awaiting  us."  And  with  a  word  she  left  the  bedchamber ;  and  Alice,  with 
that  strong  mastery  of  her  passions  that  formed  so  prominent  a  feature  in  her  character, 
composed  herself  so  thoroughly,  that  no  one  could  have  dreamed  that  a  few  short  min- 
utes before  her  heart  had  been  rent  by  the  most  violent  emotions.  It  was  not  long 
before  she  joined  her  friends  at  the  breakfast  table  ;  and  when  she  did  so,  although  she 
certainly  was  a  little  pale,  she  conversed  cheerfully  and  even  gayly,  and  that  too  without 
any  expression  of  the  forced  merriment,  which  it  is  so  painful  even  to  witness.  Old 
Selby  was  in  one  of  his  brightest  of  moods ;  having  quite  shaken  off  his  abstraction, 
and  talking  with  much  real  interest  about  some  of  the  great  scholars  of  the  day,  with 
whom  he  was  desirous  of  becoming  intimate,  and  with  whom  Madame  de  Gondi  prom- 
ised to  make  him  speedily  acquainted.  "  Indeed,"  she  said,  in  conclusion  of  some  little 
offer  of  the  kind,  "  I  had  thought  of  this  already.  We  had  a  little  supper  here  last 
night,  of  which  I  did  not  speak  to  you,  fearing  that  you  would  be  so  ceremonious  as  to 
do  what  I  knew  would  be  disagreeable  to  your  health ;  and  I  engaged  the  good  old 
Bishop  of  Lisieux,  who  is  himself  a  man  of  talent,  to  call  on  you  to-day,  and  take  you 
to  see  our  famous  Pierre  Huet,  and  several  others  of  the  academicians." 

"  You  are,  indeed,  most  kind  and  thoughtful,"  he  replied.  "  I  myself  know  Pierre 
Huet ;  at  least,  we  have  corresponded  on  subjects  of  mutual  interest,  and  I  feel  quite  as 
if  we  were  old  friends." 

"  Yes,  indeed  ;"  interposed  Alice,  laughing  so  naturally  that  Henriette  gazed  at  her 
with  amazement,  "  my  father  used  to  write  him  long  letters,  and  a  work  beginning, 
' Man  cher  Huet — Lycophron,  in  the  367th  line  of  his  Cassandra,  has  the  word  so  and 
so,  the  mystic  sense  of  which,'  and  so  on — whole  pages  full  of  stuff  that  no  one  in  the 
world  could  understand,  without  one  intelligible  word,  till  you  c<mie  to  servitcur  ires 
humble.  And  Monsieur  Huet  used  to  reply :  *  Mon  ami  Selby — Camillus  and  Decius 
Junius  Brutus  were  not  so  foolish  as  people  have  imagined,  men,  but  merely  fresh  devel- 
opments of  the  mythic  personage  variously  represented  as  Ulysses  and  Agamemnon 
and  Prometheus ;  just  in  the  same  manner  as  Tarquinia,  Medea,  Helen,  Semiramis, 
Omphale,  and  in  short  all  the  women  mentioned  in  mythologies,  are  new  types  of  the 
witch  of  Endor !'  These  are  exactly  the  kind  of  letters  they  used  to  write,  upon  my 
honor.  And  now  my  dear  father  talks  about  his  knowing  the  man ;  and  he  cannot  tell 
whether  he  is  rich  or  poor,  old  or  young,  well-intentioned,  or  the  worst  of  men." 

"  Well,  that  is  true ;  that  is  true  at  least,"  answered  Selby,  smiling — "  although  all 
that  stuff  about  the  letters  is  an  exaggeration  of  Alice's,  and  quite  untrue  moreover,  for 
Huet  never  could  have  made  such  blunders  as  to  say  Ulysses  and  Prometheus  were  one 
person — although  it  may  be  very  clearly  shown  that  th«  mystic  personage,  Orion — " 

"  For  heaven's  sake,  dearest  father,"  Alice  interrupted  him,  "  do  not  waste  these 
most  excellent,  and  I  have  no  doubt,  valuable  discoveries,  on  minds  so  incapable  and 
ignorant  as  mine  and  Madame  de  Gondi's." 

"  Upon  my  word  !  I  do  think  you  were  wiser  to  reserve  them  for  the  good  Bishop,  or 
Pierre  Huet,"  Henriette  chimed  in,  with  a  silvery  laugh ;  and  the  old  student  was  com 
pelled  to  join  in  the  merriment,  excited  by  his  own  eccentricity. 

Soon  afterwards,  almost  indeed  before  the  covers  had  been  removed,  and  while  they 
were  yet  lingering  in  the  breakfast  room,  the  worthy  bishop  was  announced  ;  and  after 
a  short  conversation  with  the  ladies,  carriepl  off  the  high-minded  and  unworldly  scholar, 


OR,     THE     MAID'S     REVENGE.  153 

apparantly  delighted  at  finding  a  person,  of  pursuits  and  a  spirit  so  congenial,  Then, 
quietly  resuming  their  previous  conversation,  Madame  de  Gondi  advised  her  young 
friend,  very  wisely,  neither  to  do  or  resolve  anything  hastily. 

"  I  think  I  can  see,"  she  said,  "  already,  though  I  have  known  you  for  so  short  a 
time,  enough  of  your  character  to  be  sure  that  the  happiness  of  your  whole  life  is  at 
stake  ;  and  that  is  not  to  be  cast  away  on  slight  or  mistaken  causes.  Moreover,  to  you, 
who  are  I  know  so  fraught  with  conscious  and  religious  scruples,  it  should  be  no  small 
inducement  to  calm  and  deliberate  judgment,  that  the  happiness  of  another  is  probably 
involved  equally  with  your  own  ;  and,  above  all  things,  I  entreat  you  to  remember,  what 
J  have  learned  by  a  life's  experience,  that  the  Constancy  of  men  and  of  women  are  very 
different  things.  A  man  may  act — nay,  often  does  act,  while  he  is  perfectly  true  to  his 
first  love,  exactly  as  it  would  argue  a  woman  utterly  false  to  do." 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  Alice,  "I  know  that;  and  I  have  too  much  cause  for  wishing  all 
to  go  on  well,  to  suffer  myself  to  be  rash  or  indiscreet  in  this  case,  even  if  I  were  nat- 
urally inclined  to  do  so,  which,  I  think,  I  am  not." 

"  I  am  sure  not,"  said  Henriette  ;  "  and  you  will  have  abundant  opportunities  of 
judging,  for  you  will  meet  him  everywhere,  and  that  too,  in  company  with  this  lady, 
who  is  considered  very  beautiful.  And  now  that  I  begin  to  recollect,  I  think  still  more 
that  there  is  nothing  in  this ;  for  I  remember  hearing  that  Major  Wyvil  and  Monsieur 
de  Bellechassaigne  performed  a  very  valiant  exploit,  in  saving  this  girl  and  her  father 
from  some  of  the  Duke  of  Lorraine's  soldiers  ;  I  fancy  it  will  only  prove  to  be  gratitude 
and  friendship.  But  here  is  the  carriage,  I  perceive  at  the  door ;  I  want  to  take  you 
around  to  some  of  our  gay  shops,  to  the  perfumer's,  and  the  jeweller's,  and  fifty  other 
pleasant  places,  excellent  for  getting  rid  of  superfluous  money ;  and  after  dinner  we 
will  go  and  walk  in  the  gardens  of  the  Tuileries,  which  is  quite  the  mode  nowadays ; 
and  I  dare  say  the  king  will  be  there,  and  the  queen-mother  likewise." 

The  morning  passed  pleasantly  away,  although,  to  say  the  truth,  the  heart  of  Alice 
was  far  away  from  the  gay  scenes  through  which  she  passed ;  nor  were  her  thoughts 
to  be  diverted  by  the  rich  laces  of  the  Low  Countries,  the  silver  fringed  gloves  of  Bruges, 
the  silks  already  famous  of  Lyons  and  Tours,  and  the  thousand  other  gay  and  splendid 
wares,  which,  irresistible  to  female  eyes,  were  everywhere  displayed  to  tempt  her. 

The  noonday  meal  was  ended  ;  and  happy  ever  at  witnessing  the  happiness  of  those 
dear  to  her,  Alice  was  gayer  when  she  witnessed  the  delight  of  her  father,  at  the  mode 
in  which  he  had  spent  the  morning,  and  at  an  engagement  he  had  made  to  pass  the 
afternoon  in  visiting  some  library,  full  of  rare  manuscripts,  and  dim  illegible  papyri, 
than  she  had  fancied  she  could  ever  be  again ;  for,  though  she  would  not  suffer  herself 
to  despond,  she  had  by  no  means  succeeded  in  persuading  herself,  as  Madame  de 
Gondi  had  half  done,  that  Marmaduke  was  true  and  faithful ;  but,  on  the  contrary, 
there  was  a  heavy  cloud  continually  overcasting  her  brighter  anticipations ;  one  of 
those  almost  causeless  shadows,  which  all  of  us,  even  the  least  imaginative,  at  times 
have  experienced,  and  which  even  the  least  superstitious  half  believe  to  be  ominous  of 
coming  evil.  Soon  after  dinner,  the  carriage  was  again  announced  ;  and  splendidly 
dressed  in  the  superb  and  stately  fashion  of  the  day,  with  the  small  hoop  or  vertugardin, 
as  it  was  sometimes  called — not  the  absurd  monstrosity  of  later  days — lending  a  grace- 
ful contour  to  the  hips,  and  setting  off  the  slender  waist,  displayed  to  advantage  by  the 
long  corsage  ;  with  satin  robes  looped  up  with  knots  of  gold  or  silver  ribbons,  to  show 
the  petticoat  of  some  rich  tissue  ;  and  long  brocaded  trains  gracefully  carried  over  the 
left  arms  ;  with  their  long  soft  hair  trained  to  fall  in  luxuriant  ringlets  over  the  neck 
and  shoulders,  the  ladies  set  forth  to  walk  in  the  palace  gardens.  Those  gardens, 
sumptuous  though  they  were  and  beautiful,  were  by  no  means  what  they  are  now  ;  for 
at  that  time  the  changes  which  sprang  from  the  exquisite  taste  of  the  great  Colbert  had 
not  as  yet  been  made,  although  they  were  commenced  only  a  few  years  later  ;  and,  in 
the  days  of  which  I  write,  the  gardens  were  divided  by  a  small  narrow  street  -not 
cleaner  than  streets  usually  were  in  Paris — from  the  palace  to  which  they  belonged  ; 
and  were  flanked  on  the  river  side  by  a  range  of  mean  and  insignificant  houses,  which 

7* 


154  MARMABTTKE     WYVI1,; 

appeared  to  belong  to  the  royal  residence,  and  detracted  sadly  from  the  dignity  of  the 
view.     The  magnificent  terrace,  on  the  water's  side,  had  not  then  been  constructed, 
nor  the  great  basins  and  superb  water-works,  which  now  form  so  great  a  portion  of  tke 
attractions  of  the  place.     They  were,  however,  even  then,  the  finest  gardens  in  the 
world  ;  and  Alice,  who  had  been  accustomed  only  to  the  natural,  and  inartificial  shrub- 
beries and  parks  of  her  native  land,  could  not  but  be  struck  by  the  superb  and  shadowed 
avenues,  the  long  rows  of  pleached  hedges,  solid  and  high  as  walls  of  yew,  or  box,  or 
hornbeam  ;  by  the  secluded  mazes  cut  in  the  massive  greenery,  the  sheltered  seats,  and 
pleasant  arbors,  the  urns  and  vases,  columns  and  statues  which  decorated  every  open 
place  ;  and   by  the  fountains  which,  tfcough  far  less  noble  than  the  jets  which  now 
adorn  those  princely  gardens,  sparkled  and  flashed  with  bright  prismatic  colors,  unri- 
valled in  the  clear  autumn  sunshine.     The  gardens  were  already  crowded  with  the 
fair,  and  great,  and  noble,  when  Henriette  de  Gondi  and  Alice,  leaving  their  carriage  at 
the  splendid  gates  of  gilded-iron  work,  guarded  by  two  tall  sentinels  in  the  magnificent 
and  gaudy  costume  of  the  Swiss  guard,  entered  the  principal  avenue.     Hundreds  of 
gentlemen  in  gay  court-dresses,  or  rich  uniforms  sparkling  with  gold  and  gems,  and 
fluttering  with  scarfs  and  ribbons,  and  broad  laces,  were  strolling  to  and  fro,  in  groups 
or  singly  ;  perfuming  all  the  air  with  the  rich  scents  which  were  scattered  from  their 
waving  locks  ;  for  the  abominable  fashion  of  perukes  had  not  as  yet  been  introduced, 
and  all  their  heads  were  bare,  as  well  in  compliment  to  the  ladies,  many  of  whom 
enlivened  the  bright  scene  yet  farther  by  their  graceful  presence,  as  in  deference  to  the 
young  king,  who  was  known  to  be  within  the  precincts  of  the  garden.     Scarcely  had 
they  made  a  dozen  steps  into  the  garden,  before  they  were  recognized  and  joined  by 
several  of  the  gentlemen  who  had  supped  with  them  on  the  previous  evening,  and  who 
appeared  determined  to  lose  no  opportunity  of  attaching  themselves  to  the  train  of  one, 
whose  beauty,  they  foresaw,  would  elevate  her  to  the  rank  of  a  reigning  belle  in  the  court 
of  the  young  and  beauty-loving  monarch.     Light,  gay,  and  sparkling  was  the  conver- 
sation of  the  gay  youths,  mingled  with  many  a  jest  and  racy  anecdote  of  this  or  that 
great  personage,  who  passed  or  repassed  constantly.     This  was  the  splendid  and  volup- 
tuous Fouquet,  the  celebrated  minister  of  the  finance,  who,  though  his  fall  was  not  far 
distant,  still  basked  in  the  meridian  favor  of  the  boy-monarch — that  was  Count  Anthony 
Hamilton,  the  wittiest  man,  where  almost  all  were  witty — and  that  superb  and  gallant 
cavalier,  who  walked  beside  him  jesting  and  laughing  noisily,  all  blazing  with  inesti 
mable  diamonds,  that  was  the  Count  de  Grammont ;  and  his  appearance  recalled  some 
recent  bon-mot,  which  was  of  course  retailed — and  thus,  almost  despite  herself,  between 
the  interest  of  seeing  so  many  noted  persons,  and  the  gay  repartees  and  jeux  de  mot 
which  were  continually  flowing  round  her,  Alice  was  rapidly  forgetting  her  griefs, 
when  she  was  suddenly  called  back  to  them  by  a  group  of  persons  of  both  sexes,  which 
met  them  and  swept  onward  in  a  moment,  scarce  noticing  if  they  saw  the  young  English 
beauty.     The  first  person,  who  walked  a  step  or  two  in  advance  of  the  rest,  and  was 
covered,  was  a  young  man  well  made,  and  not  ungraceful  ;  and  with  a  natural  air  of 
dignity,  which  was  not  altogether  destroyed  by  the  unpleasant  expression  and  hard  fea- 
tures of  his  dark-complexioned,  strongly-lined,  and  saturnine  countenance.     His  hair 
was  harsh  and  coarse,  of  a  deep  black ;  and  his  eyes,  which  were  quick  and  expressive, 
were  of  the  same  color.    It  was  remarkable,  that  the  son  of  two  among  the  handsomest 
persons  in  Europe  should  have  been  so  ungainly,  yet  so  it  was  ;  for  it  was  Charles  the 
Second,  an  exile  from  the  land  of  his  fathers,  and  a  pensioner  on  the  French  king's 
bounty,  who  passed  by,  laughing  indecently  and  boisterously  at  some  licentious  joke, 
•which  had  just  fallen  from  the  lips  of  Buckingham  or  Wilmot,  both  of  whom  walked 
almost  beside  him,  although  a  step  or  two  behind.     Several  other  English  gentlemen 
accompanied  the  thankless  Master,  for  whom  they  had  bled  and  were  now  in  banish, 
ment,  and  three  or  four  ladies ;  but  it  was  on  the  last  of  these,  a  tall  and  very  beautiful 
girl,  with  a  high  and  perhaps  somewhat  bold  style  of  loveliness,  a  profusion  of  magnifi- 
cent black  ringlets,  a  shape  of  exquisite  voluptuous  symmetry,  and  the  unrivalled  gait, 
springy  yet  slow,  and  blithe  and  graceful,  of  a  CastUian  lady,  that  the  quick  eye  of 


OR,     THE     MAID'S     REVENGE.  155 

Alice  rested.  It  was  the  same  girl  who  had  ridden  past  the  carriage  just  as  they 
reached  the  gates  of  Paris  on  the  preceding  day,  and  her  heart  told  her  in  a  moment 
that  it  was  Isabella  Oswald — and  it  was  she  ;  superbly  habited  in  a  rich  robe  of  emerald 
velvet  slashed  with  white  satin,  and  decorated  with  slight  chamwork  of  wrought  gold, 
with  diamonds  in  her  bosom,  and  in  her  splendid  hair — nothing  could  be  more  queenly 
than  the  whole  air  and  carriage  of  the  proud  beauty,  as  she  passed  along  leaning  upon 
the  arm  of  the  tall  gray-haired  soldier,  whom  she  had  addressed  the  previous  day,  as 
her  father. 

"  See,  see  ;  Mademoiselle  de  Selby,"  exclaimed  the  young  count  de  Bellefonds  in  a 
loud  whisper,  as  she  swept  along. 

"  That  is  the  heroine  of  Villequier's  tale  last  evening — that  handsome  black  haired 
girl." 

"  Indeed  !"  said  Alice  quietly,  "  she  is  extremely  handsome  certainly ;  I  do  not  wonder 
that  the  gentlemen  should  be  somewhat  bold  to  win  her." 

"  Nor  I,  nor  I,"  replied  Bellefonds;  "  but,  as  I  thought  at  the  time,  there  was  a  good 
deal  of  romance  in  our  worthy  captain's  story — the  quarrel  had  nothing  to  do  in  the 
world  with  the  lady,  it  was  merely  about  some  military  duty  or  other.  The  old  man  is 
a  very  rigid  disciplinarian,  and  is  blest  with  a  fiery  temper ;  and  was  intemperate  and 
violent  in  his  language.  Wyvil — what  singular  names,  by  the  by,  you  English  people 
have ;  it  is  almost  impossible  to  speak  them — behaved  extremely  well  and  coolly  ;  and 
all  is  well  arranged,  and  they  are  friends  again  1" 

"  Ob  !  I  am  glad  to  hear  that,"  replied  Alice,  as  if  she  had  been  quite  unconcerned  — 
"  I  am  very  glad  to  hear  that  Major  Wyvil  conducted  himself  so  well.  He  is  an  old 
friend  of  ours,  although  I  have  not  seen  him  since  I  have  been  in  Paris." 

"  Ah !  you  will  see  him  very  soon  ;  he  is  a  great  favorite  at  court,  one  of  the  bravest 
and  most  noble  of  our  young  officers — I  dare  say  he  is  in  the  garden  now  ;  but  ha  ! 
what  have  we  here  ?"  he  added,  as  a  considerable  bustle  might  be  observed  a  little 
farther  up  the  walk,  the  people  hurrying  to  and  fro,  and  arranging  themselves  in  lines 
on  either  hand,  "  there  is  a  movement."  As  if  in  answer  to  the  count's  question,  there 
came  a  cry,  "  The  king !  the  king !.  room  for  the  king  !''  and  bowing  courteously  to 
all  his  subjects,  and  pausing  now  and  then  to  speak  to  some  one  of  the  more  distin- 
guished, the  young  and  splendid  prince  came  slowly  down  the  avenue,  attended  by  a 
band  of  courtiers  as  gallantly  attired  as  can  be  fancied.  Louis,  who  was  at  this  time 
little  advanced  beyond  the  ripening  term  of  boyhood,  was  singularly,  ay,  wonderfully 
handsome — not  very  tall,  but  splendidly  proportioned,  with  a  fine  brilliant  countenance 
of  somewhat  Roman  outline  ;  a  forehead  all  bland  expanse,  yet  broad  and  massive,  an 
eye  bright,  penetrating  and  undaunted  as  the  eagle's ;  a  lip  which  could  express  an 
empire's  proud  authority,  but  which  was  now  wreathed  in  a  sweet  and  fascinating 
smile ;  a  gait,  at  the  same  time  easy  and  majestic  ;  an  air,  so  wonderfully  winning,  that- 
when  he  chose  it,  no  one  on  earth  could  resist  its  imperative  seduction — such,  at  that 
period  was  the  youth,  whose  name  was  to  be  coupled  for  all  ages  with  everything  that 
relates  to  magnificence  and  grandeur,  whether  of  war  and  glory,  or  of  pleasure  and 
ostentation ;  who  certainly  possessed  beyond  all  others  the  regal  power  of  winning  hearts 
as  it  were  by  a  word,  of  gaining  almost  by  a  glance  man's  adoration — woman's  dc-pp 
devotion.  Of  all  the  court,  there  was  no  man  so  plainly  dressed  as  the  young  monarch; 
he  wore  his  own  rich  chestnut  hair  in  flowing  ringlets,  a  coat  of  black  velvet,  lined  with 
white  satin,  with  vest  and  breeches  of  the  same  material,  without  a  particle  of  lace,  or 
embroidery,  or  chain  of  gold,  or  jewelry,  or  any  other  decoration,  except  a  single  star  of 
superb  brilliants  on  the  left  breast  of  the  doublet,  a  pair  of  diamond  buckles  in  his 
shoes,  and  a  diamond  hilt  to  his  court  rapier.  His  eye  glanced  rapidly  from  side  to 
side,  as  he  came  up  the  walk,  dwelling  for  a  few  moments  complacently  upon  any  face 
of  more  than  ordinary  beauty  ;  and  when  he  had  come  to  the  spot  where  Madame  de 
Gondi  stood,  he  came  to  a  dead  stop,  looking  full  at  Alice  Selby.  "Ha!"  he  said 
"  our  fair  lady  of  Gondi,  methinks  you  have  a  new  face  there  !  one  that  we  nave  not 
seen  at  our  court — one  of  the  fair  daughters  of  the  noble  house  of  Retz  ?" 


156  MARMADUKE     WYVILJ 

"  Not  so,  sire ;"  answered  Henriette  de  Gondi,  curtseying  very  low  at  this  unex- 
pected civility.  "  A  young  English  lady,  a  cousin  of  my  dear  mother's,  who  has  been 
forced  to  fly  from  her  country  in  consequence  of  loyalty  to  her  king — Mademoiselle 
fcjelby — I  had  proposed  to  ask  permission  to  present  her  to  your  majesty  on  your  next 
reception-day  :  she  only  arrived  in  your  majesty's  capital  last  evening." 

"  We  shall  be  happy  always  to  receive  so  loyal  and  so  fair  a  lady,"  answered  Louis, 
very  gracefully  ;  "  our  lady  mother  also,  will  be  glad  to  see  Mistress  Selby  ;"  ana  he 
was  already  moving  onward,  when  he  appeared  to  recollect  something,  and  turning 
short  round,  "  I  presume,"  he  said, "  you  have  received  our  commands,  madame,  through 
our  lord  chamberlain,  to  attend  our  ball  this  evening  at  the  Louvre?" 

"  1  have  not  heard  of  it,  sire,"  she  replied,  when  he  interrupted  her — 

"  Artagrac,  then,  must  have  forgotten  ;  well,  now  you  comprehend,  and  your  fair 
cousin  will  accompany  you ;"  and  with  these  words,  the  ladies  curtseying  low  in  token 
of  assent,  the  monarch  and  his  train  swept  onward,  the  former  saying  so  loud  that  his 
words  reached  the  ears  of  Alice — "  Ma  foi !  Beaugen,  these  English  girls  eclipse  the 
brightest  of  our  beauties — I  thought  the  Oswald  the  handsomest  woman  I  had  ever  seen, 
but  this  fair-haired  girl  is  twenty  times  more  lovely." 

A  well -pleased  smile  came  over  the  face  of  Henriette,  as  she  heard  the  flattering 
comment  of  the  king,  well  knowing  that  so  open  an  expression  of  his  admiration,  would 
send  the  whole  world  of  the  court  to  worship  at  the  feet  of  Alice  ;  and  hoping  that  a 
reception  so  distinguished  would  go  far  to  reclaim  the  recreant  lover.  Alice  smiled 
likewise,  but  it  was  with  a  sad  and  calm  expression  that  spoke  of  anything  rather  than 
gratified  vanity  or  pride.  The  gentlemen  around  did  not,  however,  seem  to  notice  either 
the  smile,  or  the  feelings  that  gave  birth  to  it ;  but  continued  their  attentions  for  some 
time,  strolling  the  while  along  the  shadowy  walks,  and  pausing  now  and  then  by  the 
basin  of  some  brilliant  fountain,  until,  having  remained  as  long  as  politeness  would 
permit,  one  by  one,  all  of  them  dropped  off,  pleading  some  business  or  engagement  as 
an  excuse,  and  only  Bellefonds,  who  was  indeed  related  to  the  house  of  Gondi,  felt  it 
his  duty  to  await  their  pleasure.  After  a  while — "  well  Alice,"  said  her  cousin,  "  I 
think  we  have  had  enough  of  this — if  Monsieur  de  Bellefonds  will  be  so  good  as  to 
inquire  for  my  carriage  at  the  gate,  we  will  sit  down  and  wait  for  his  return  in  this  quiet 
arbor."  The  place  of  which  she  spoke,  was  no  more  than  a  nook,  or  green  recess, 
hollowed  out  of  the  massive  thickness  of  a  great  yew  hedge,  with  a  seat  capable  of 
accommodating  two,  or  at  the  most,  three  persons,  overlooking  the  principal  jet  d'eau, 
and  the  great  carre  four,  or  common  centre  from  which  the  several  avenues  diverged 
The  gentleman  bowed,  and  walked  quickly  off  toward  the  gate  of  the  Tuilerios,  and 
the  two  ladies  sat  down  in  the  shade,  neither  of  them  for  the  moment  much  inclined  to 
talk — for  there  is  a  reaction  which  follows  the  excitement  of  very  forced  and  brilliant 
conversation,  as  surely  as  it  does  the  excitement  of  any  other  kind ;  and  a  sort  of  vague 
lassitude  had  crept  over  both  of  them,  inclining  them  rather  to  think  within  themselves, 
than  to  speak  of  what  had  been  passing.  It  happened  to  be  the  case,  however,  that  the 
same  hedge  in  which  the  sylvan  seat  was  framed  where  they  were  sitting,  was  the 
external  boundary  of  a  maze  or  labyrinth,  laid  out  with  rare  skill  and  many  intricate 
and  doubtful  windings  ;  and  exactly  behind  the  spot  where  Alice  sat,  another  similar 
recess  had  been  cut,  in  the  thickness  of  the  same  hedge,  opening  to  the  walk  behind  ; 
and  only  separated  from  the  bower  in  front  by  a  few  inches  of  thick  evergreen  foliage, 
sufficient  indeed  to  prevent  the  eye  from  discerning  anything  beyond,  but  suffering 
every  word  that  was  spoken  to  pass  through  its  leafy  screen.  This  seat,  the  existence 
of  which  had  been  suspected  by  neither  of  the  ladies,  was  unoccupied  when  they  first 
sat  down ;  but  scarcely  had  they  been  there  a  minute  when  they  distinguished  the  foot 
steps  of  two  persons,  one  evidently  a  lady,  coming  along  the  walk  behind  them,  and 
immediately  afterwards  became  aware  that  they  had  paused  almost  beside  them.  A 
moment  afterwards  the  sweet  and  low-toned  voice  of  a  woman  was  heard  saying,  "  Oh! 
this  is  very  wrong — I  fear,  that  this  is  very  wrong  indeed — what  will  my  father  say 
when  he  misses  me,  and  finds  that  you  have  come  off  with  me  ?" 


OR,     THE     MAID'S     REVENGE.  157 

"  Say  ?  why,  what  should  he  say,  sweet  Isabella  ?"  answered  a  man,  in  tones,  each 
note  of  which  struck  to  the  very  heart  of  Alice,  "  but  that  you  are  a  wild  one  ever, 
and  ran  away  into  the  maize,  and  that  I  came  to  seek  for  you,  lest  you  should  lose  vour 
way.  But,  Isabel,  it  is  not  you,  but  I,  that  have  indeed  strayed  from  my  road  :  and  if 
you  will  not  deign  to  lead  me  back,  I  fear  me,  I  am  lost  for  ever.  Beautiful,  beautiful 
Isabella — listen  one  moment — nay !  do  not  turn  your  head  away,  nor  beat  the  earth  so 
proudly  angry  with  that  small  foot — listen,  for  I  must  speak.  I  cannot  be  confined,  and 
cribbed,  and  fettered  by  their  confounded  rules  of  convenance;  and  I  must  speak,  and 
be  answered.  I  adore  you  !  words  cannot  speak  my  adoration,  and  you  know  it.  Yes, 
well  you  know  it,  Isabella,  and  you  have  smiled  on  me,  and  seemed  not  wholly  to 
despise  my  suit.  Speak  then — speak,  Isabella,  and  say — can  you  not  love  me,  will  you 
not  be  mine  ?" 

The  moment  she  had  recognized  the  voice,  Alice  grasped  Henriette  by  the  arm  so 
rigidly,  that  instantly  she  comprehended  what  was  passing ;  and  when  her  cousin  would 
have  risen,  detained  her  quietly,  yet  by  a  hold  so  firm  that  she  could  not  escape  from 
it  without  creating  so  much  noise  as  would  have  reached  the  ears  of  the  others.  A 
second  or  two  followed,  before  any  answer  was  returned  by  the  girl ;  and  there  was  a 
sound,  that  might  have  been  either  that  of  weeping  or  of  suppressed  laughter ;  but  when 
she  spoke,  her  voice  was  clear  and  silvery,  and,  if  anything,  pitched  somewhat  higher 
than  before. 

"Yes,"  she  said,  "Major  Wyvil,  I  will  be  quite  frank  with  you.  I  have  perceived 
your  attentions — nay,  chafe  not !  your  love,  if  you  will — and  I  will  not  say  that  I  have 
perceived  them  altogether  with  indifference  ;  but,  ere  I  give  my  love,  I  must  be  certain, 
and  I  am  not  quite  certain.  Sir,  I  have  heard  something  whispered  of  love  passages  in 
England — something  of  a  fair  girl  who  rescued  Captain  Wyvil  from  strange  peril,  and 
loved  and  was  loved  in  return.  Methinks — " 

"  Mere  talk,"  Marmaduke  answered,  interrupting  her ;  "  mere  empty  idle  slander ! 
uttered  by  fools  who  know  not,  or  knaves  who  care  not  what  they  publish.  Nay, 
dearest,  loveliest  Isabella,  I  swear  to  you  that  my  whole  heart  is  yours — yours  only — 
and  for  ever !  Why,  she  !  she  was  the  merest  country  girl !  I  never  so  much  even  as 
thought  of  her — " 

"  Enough !"  whispered  Alice,  vehemently — "  I  will  hear  no  more  ;"  and,  starting  to 
her  feet,  she  hurried  out  of  the  little  arbor  before  Henriette  had  time  to  hinder  her,  and 
went  on  speaking,  when  she  joined  her,  not  without  manifesting  strong  indignation — 
"  I  am  astonished  at  you — ay,  astonished,  Madame  de  Gondi — that  you  ghcftild  wish 
me  to  remain  and  hear  things  not  intended  for  my  ears :  it  is  unprincipled  and  base — " 

"  Alice,"  interposed  Henriette — "  Alice,  you  are  now  angry,  and  very  naturally  so. 
The  time  will  come,  however,  when  you  will  do  me  justice.  I  am  the  last,  the  very 
last  person,  Alice,  who  would  encourage  any  one  to  listen  meanly  to  the  words  of 
another ;  but  in  this  case  you  had  unwittingly  heard  so  much,  that  it  was  absolutely 
necessary  that  you  should  hear  more.  But  you  are  right  in  this — you  have  heard  all 
that  it  behooved  you  to  hear ;  you  have  detected  and  shall  foil  a  villain  !  And,  as  you 
say,  we  had  no  right  to  wait  or  listen  for  the  lady's  answer.  Now  take  my  arm — here 
comes  de  Bellefonds  to  announce  the  carriage — and  see,  the  gardens  are  already 
almost  empty." 


CHAPTER   XXVIII. 

THE  Louvre,  although  it  had  not,  at  this  time,  been  rebuilt  and  decorated  by  Claude 
Perrault,  de  Vau,  and  Dorbay,  as  it  was  a  few  years  later,  was  a  magnificent  and  stately 
pile,  well  worthy  to  be  the  residence  of  a  line  of  great  and  powerful  kings :  it  contained 
many  vast  saloons  and  stately  halls,  splendidly  furnished  according  to  the  taste  of  the 
times.  It  must  not,  indeed,  be  imagined  that  now — when  the  revenues  of  the  country 


l£8  MARMADTTKE     WTVILJ 

had  been  exhausted,  the  court  impoverished,  and  the  treasury  emptied,  by  the  long  and 
terrible  civil  wars  which  had  been  raging  throughout  France,  and  before  the  master 
hand  of  Colbert  had  revived  the  credit  and  refilled  the  coffers  of  the  state — its  furniture, 
and  other  appliances  of  luxury,  were  so  extravagantly  sumptuous  and  grand  as  they 
became  in  after  years,  when  France  had  learned  to  manufacture  for  herself  the  mirrors, 
and  the  tapestries,  the  carpets,  and  the  laces  and  velvet,  which  she  was  now  content  to 
purchase,  not  far  short  of  their  weight  in  gold,  from  Venice,  the  Low  Countries,  Turkey, 
and  Italy,  and  Flanders :  all  was,  however,  rich  and  gorgeous  and  magnificent,  and 
certainly  far  more  luxurious  than  had  ever  met  the  eyes  of  fair  Alice  Selby. 

The  court  was  filled  by  a  detachment  of  the  horse  body-guard,  and  their  fine  band 
was  playing,  at  short  intervals,  to  the  great  delight  of  an  immense  multitude  of  people 
who  were  collected  without  the  gates,  the  popular  and  stirring  tunes  peculiar  to  the 
house  of  Bourbon  ;  "  Vive  Henri  Quatre,"  "  La  belle  Gabrielle,"  "  O  Richard  !"  and 
the  like,  which  were  received  now  with  tumultuous  applause  by  the  same  wild  and 
fickle  multitude,  that  had  but  a  few  months  before  fired  the  cannon  of  the  Bastile  on 
the  troops  of  the  very  king  whom  they  now  affected  to  adore.  In  the  hall,  at  the  foot 
of  the  great  staircase,  were  stationed  a  small  party  of  officers  and  gentlemen  pensioners, 
with  burnished  breastplates  and  broad-bladed  partisans  ;  and  on  every  landing-place  up 
to  the  royal  antechamber  was  stationed  a  subaltern  of  the  guard  in  full  uniform,  with 
casque  and  breastplate,  sword  and  musketoon.  Many  of  the  old  haute-noblesse  had 
arrived  already,  and  all  the  officers,  civil  and  military,  of  the  royal  household,  had 
come  together.  When  Madame  de  Gondi  entered  the  palace  with  her  young  guest,  the 
antechamber  was  filled  with  gayly-dressed  flippant  pages,  whose  long  curled  hair  and 
blooming  cheeks,  and  dresses  vivid  with  light  brilliant  colors,  made  them  resemble 
girls  rather  than  effeminate  youths  of  the  ruder  sex ;  one  of  whom  started  forward 
instantly,  to  receive  their  names,  and  pass  them  onward  to  an  usher  who  stood,  leaning 
on  a  long  gold  rod,  at  the  door  of  the  principal  saloon.  Another  moment,  and  the 
whole  gorgeous  scene  burst,  like  a  fairy-vision,  on  the  dazzled  senses  of  the  young 
English  girl.  The  long  suite  of  splendid  halls,  illuminated  by  vast  pendant  chande- 
liers of  gold  and  crystal,  the  hangings  of  brocade  and  velvet,  the  giant  mirrors  of  Vene- 
tian fabric,  reflecting  every  object  fifty  fold,  the  very  atmosphere  rendered  voluptuous 
by  the  breath  of  the  softest  perfumes,  and  vocal  with  the  dying  fall  of  sweetest  instru- 
ments. Such  was  the  first  impression,  a  sort  of  vague  bewilderment,  that  made  the 
head  swim,  and  the  heart  flutter,  and  the  breath  come  thick,  unmingled  with  any  very 
clear  consciousness  or  distinct  perception  of  the  things  that  met  her  eyes.  The  second 
thing  that  struck  her  was  the  apparent  fewness  of  the  guests,  the  effect  of  numbers 
being  in  a  great  measure  lost,  owing  to  the  vastness  of  the  apartments,  and  to  the  dis- 
tribution of  the  company  throughout  the  whole  length  of  the  suite ;  so  that,  although 
at  the  farther  end  of  the  long  vista  she  could  discover  by  the  blazing  lustres  which  ren- 
dered all  the  rooms  as  light  as  day,  a  crowd  of  gay  forms  wheeling  in  the  slow  and 
graceful  dances  of  the  time,  she  passed  in  the  intermediate  halls  only  a  group  or  two 
of  gentlemen  playing  at  games  of  hazard  on  tables  laid  out  for  the  purpose  ;  and  a  few 
pairs,  seemingly  busied  in  matters  of  love  or  intrigue,  seated  apart  in  the  luxurious 
alcoves,  or  partaking  of  the  delicate  refreshments  which  were  displayed  in  such  pro- 
fusion. Madame  de  Gondi,  therefore,  hurried  her  somewhat  quickly  toward  the  ball- 
room, making  no  pause  at  all,  except  to  return  the  salutations  of  the  gentlemen  who 
recognized  her.  Scarcely,  however,  had  they  reached  the  ball-room,  where,  as  they 
entered,  the  dance  was  gayly  circling,  when  a  gentleman  in  a  rich  court-dress  stepped 
forward  from  the  crowd  to  meet  them,  exclaiming, 

"At  last,  Madame  de  Gondi!  at  last  you  come  to  rejoice  our  eyes,  which  we  have 
been  straining  all  the  evening  in  the  hope  of  discovering  you.  His  majesty  has  inquired 
thrice,  if  you  had  yet  arrived  ;  and  has  commanded  Artagrac  and  myself  to  bring  you 
to  him  the  moment  you  should  make  your  entree  !" 

"  I  hope  we  have  not  been  accused  of  treason,  Monsieur  de  Broglie,"  replied  Hen- 
riette,  smiling,  "  that  we  should  be  thus  made  prisoners  by  two  so  preux  chevaliers  as 
Monsieur  D'Artagrac  and  the  Count  Charles  de  Broglie  J" 


OR,   THE   MAID'S   BEVENGE  159 

"  Oh,  by  no  means — by  no  means,  madame,"  answered  de  Broglie,  laughing,  "  un- 
less to  pierce  the  hearts  of  kings  with  the  shafts  of  Cupid  may  be  deemed  a  species  of 
Use  laajeste.  But,  if  we  understand  the  matter  rightly,  his  majesty  has  no  thought  of 
making  prisoners  of  you;  but  rather,  I  believe,  of  offering  himself  a  willing  captive  to 
the  beaux  yeaux  of  this  fair  la^y,  whom  I  have  never,"  he  added,  half  hesitating  as  he 
said  it,  "  enjoyed  the  happiness  of  seeing  here  before." 

"  I  should  think  not,"  said  madame,  "  for  she  never  was  in  Paris  until  yesterday 
afternoon.  Alice,  my  dear,  let  me  make  you  know  the  Count  Charles  de  Broglie ;  in 
his  own  estimation,  the  wittiest  and  best  dressed  man  in  France,  except  the  Gram- 
mont !  Monsieur  le  Count,  Mademoiselle  de  Selby."  After  bowing  and  murmuring  his 
compliments,  the  young  lord  led  them  again  forward,  saying  as  he  did  so,  "  Upon  my 
word !  if  we  stay  talking  here,  I  shall  get  sent  myself  to  the  Bastile ;  for  his  majesty 
was  all  impatience  when  he  sent  me." 

By  this  time,  they  had  reached  the  upper  end  of  the  saloon,  where,  under  a  sort  of  a 
canopy  of  cloth  of  gold  and  velvet,  the  king  was  standing  with  a  number  of  his  lords 
about  him,  and  the  queen-mother,  Anne  of  Austria,  seated  in  a  rich  chair  of  state,  with 
a  bevy  of  court  beauties  ranged  behind  her — and  nothing  can  be  imagined  more  flat- 
tering or  courteous  than  the  reception  of  the  two  ladies,  by  the  young  monarch  and  his 
stately  mother  ;  a  favor,  which  was  perhaps  as  much  to  be  ascribed  to  a  piece  of  policy 
in  honoring  one  branch  of  a  family  so  powerful  as  the  house  of  de  Retz — when  it  had 
been  almost  determined  to  put  an  end  to  the  ambitious  career  of  another,  in  the  person 
of  the  celebrated  cardinal — as  it  was  to  the  kings  admiration  of  a  fair  face  and  hand- 
some figure.  Be  this,  however,  as  it  may,  the  king,  after  commending  the  young  guest 
of  Madame  de  Gondi  to  the  attention  of  his  mother,  and  desiring  his  lord  chamberlain 
to  place  her  on  the  list  of  those  to  be  invited  to  all  the  court  festivities,  actually  led  her 
out  to  dance  as  his  own  partner ;  rendering  her  thereby  a  mark  for  the  envy  of  every 
woman,  and  the  admiration  of  every  man  in  the  room.  There  was,  perhaps,  never  in 
the  world  a  woman  less  afflicted  with  the  vice  of  vanity,  than  Alice  Selby.  Sprung 
herself  from  a  family  of  so  ancient  distinction  as  to  consider  herself  naturally  equal  to 
the  highest  of  her  own  land,  she  was  not  one  to  be  dazzled  beyond  the  bounds  of  rea- 
son, even  by  the  condescension  of  a  great  king ;  and  she  was  too  intrinsically  proud 
and  high-minded  to  fancy  for  a  moment,  that  she  could  gain  anything  of  real  elevation 
from  a  circumstance  so  purely  adventitious.  But,  notwithstanding  all  this,  there  is,  and 
must  be  a  gratification,  and,  even  to  the  best  balanced  mind,  a  sort  of  pleasurable  ex- 
citement, in  being  selected  for  any  honor  by  the  high  and  noble;  and  although  Alice 
Selby  was,  as  I  have  said,  as  little  likely  to  imagine  herself  magnified  by  this  contact 
with  a  king,  as  to  deem  herself  disgraced  by  collision  with  a  beggar ;  although  she  was 
unhappy,  and  so  sick  at  heart  that,  but  for  a  little  touch  of  feminine  pride,  she  would 
assuredly  have  preferred  the  seclusion  of  her  own  chamber  to  the  glare  of  a  court  ball ; 
she  was  yet,  beyond  doubt,  both  pleased  and  gratified  at  finding  herself  the  partner  of 
the  most  distinguished  and  magnificent  prince,  the  handsomest  man,  and  most  accom- 
plished cavalier  of  the  day ;  and  it  was  owing  perhaps  no  less  to  this  pleasure  and  ex- 
citement, than  to  the^natural  self-reliance  of  a  high  and  well-tutored  mind,  accustomed 
from  its  childhood  upward  to  no  thoughts  but  what  were  noble  and  distinguished,  that 
she  displayed  neither  bashfulness  nor  vanity,  neither  timidity  nor  exultation,  in  circum- 
stances which  might  well  have  turned  the  head  of  one  so  unused  to  society.  Never, 
perhaps  in  her  life,  had  Alice  looked  more  lovely.  Gratification,  and  the  slight  excite- 
ment of  the  dance,  had  called  up  to  her  cheeks  a  brighter  tinge  of  the  carnation  than 
was  natural  to  her  pale  pure  complexion — her  eyes  sparkled  more  brightly,  and  as  her 
long  fair  ringlets  waved  about  in  the  breath  created  by  her  own  motion,  and  her  beau- 
tiful rounded  figure  swayed  gracefully  in  the  varied  attitudes  of  the  slow  and  measured 
dance,  nothing  could  well  be  fancied  more  exquisitely  beautiful  than  she,  who,  at  that 
very  moment,  was  rejected  and  deserted  for  one  as  much  inferior  to  herself  in  personal 
charms,  as  in  those  higher  attributes  that  constitute  the  beauties  of  the  soul 

It  was  not  long  before  the  royal  dance  was  finished ;  and  then,  although  the  king, 


160  MARMADUKE     WYVILJ 

^lien  he  had  led  her  back  to  the  court  circle,  where  her  cousin  waited  her  return* 
noticed  her  no  more  during  that  evening  except  by  a  passing  bow  and  smile ;  the  proudest 
and  the  noblest  lords  of  that  proud  court  vied  with  each  other  for  the  hand  of  a  girl 
whom  they  would  have  scarcely  deigned  to  see,  had  not  the  monarch's  approbation 
stamped  her  indellibly  a  reigning  beauty.  Ladies,  although  they  envied  her  in  secret, 
sought  the  acquaintance  of  one  who,  they  foresaw,  must  rank  with  them  in  all  future 
parties.  Madame  de  Montbagou,  known  as  the  belle  des  belles,  and  the  bright  Duchess 
ol  (Longueville,  -for  one  glance  from  whose  fair  eyes  courtiers  foreswore  their  fealty  to 
kings ;  and  Grammont,  peerless  in  beauty  as  was  her  lord  in  wit,  and  Mademoiselle 
d'Etpinasse,  and  Madame  de  Chatelet,  and  twenty  others,  some  famous  for  their  present 
loveliness,  some  for  the  reputation  of  their  bygone  charms,  asked  the  familiarity  and 
friendship  of  one  whose  name  they  never  knew,  and  of  whose  claims  to  their  esteem 
they  were  completely  ignorant.  Thus  passed  the  night ;  and,  to  speak  truly,  if  all  the 
cares  of  Alice  Selby  were  not  forgotten,  they  were  at  least  lost,  once  and  again,  in  the 
whirl  and  tumult  of  the  gay  sights  and  merry  sounds  that  were  around  her — for  such  is 
human  nature  ;  and  it  is  by  no  means  incompatible  with  the  pervading  sense  of  a  deep, 
real,  ever-present  grief,  to  laugh,  to  enjoy  wit,  and  to  admire  beauty — in  short,  to  be 
temporarily  gay,  if  not,  in  truth,  happy — and  such  was  now  the  case  with  Alice.  The 
stunning  blows  of  the  morning  had,  as  it  were,  passed  away,  leaving  a  dizzy  and  bewil- 
dered sense  of  ill,  which  she  had  not  as  yet  had  time  fully  to  comprehend,  or  to  realize 
to  her  own  feelings  ;  and  now,  plunged  as  if  by  magic,  into  the  vortex  of  all  that  was 
most  gay  and  witty,  most  dazzling  and  seductive  in  the  gayest  city  of  the  world,  she 
could  not  but  yield  to  the  contagion  of  example  ;  and  though  at  times  the  question  would 
rise  to  her  mind  "  what  have  I  now  to  do  with  happiness  ?"  though  the  sense  of  betrayal 
and  desertion  would  intrude,  like  a  ghastly  phantom  in  the  midst  of  revelry  and  mirth, 
yet  was  the  question  speedily,  if  not  satisfactorily  answered — yet  was  the  phantom 
quickly  banished  by  the  first  happy  laugh  or  sparkling  bon-mot.  It  is  always  the  mst 
blow  only,  that  pains  or  shocks  the  mind  or  body  deeply ;  the  after  things  are  more 
easily  endured,  and  the  pangs  they  create  readily  concealed,  even  although  they  may  be 
felt  keenly.  The  first  and  stunning  blow,  had  been  dealt  at  the  supper  table  on  the 
previous  night — it  had  been  heavily  repeated  in  the  gardens  ;  yet  although  Alice  felt  it — 
oh!  how  bitterly!  she  was  nerved  to  bear,  like  the  Spartan  boy,  in  silence,  the 'pangs 
that  might  be  gnawing  at  her  vitals.  Several  times  during  that  night  of  triumph — as  it 
would  have  been  considered  by  every  woman  in  the  room,  except  her  who  had  enjoyed 
it — the  thought  had  crossed  her  mind  whether  her  faithless  lover  was  a  witness ;  and 
what  would  be  the  effect  upon  his  mind,  which,  she  could  no  longer  conceal  from  herself, 
was  worldly,  frail,  and  fickle.  An  indistinct  and  floating  hope  did  occur  to  her  more  than 
once,  that  his  allegiance  might  be  reclaimed  by  the  mere  sight  of  the  effect  wrought  by 
her  beauty  upon  others  ;  and  though,  whenever  such  hopes  'did  arise,  she  asked  hersell 
scornfully  and  half-indignantly — "  and  could  I — ought  I  to  pardon  him  such  baseness,  if 
even  he  were  to  return?"  she  never  fairly  answered  herself  in  the  negative.  The 
evening  was  waxing  late,  however,  and  she  had,  as  yet,  seen  nothing  of  either  Wyvil 
or  of  Isabella ;  although  she  fancied  once,  that  she  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  tall  form 
and  dignified  movement  of  the  lady  amid  a  crowd  of  courtiers  ;  "but  before  she  could 
distinguish  it,  she  was  hurried  onward  and  lost  sight  of  her  completely.  The  evening 
was  waxing  late,  and  the  hour  of  supper  was  approaching,  when,  just  as  she  had  promised 
her  hand  for  the  following  dance  to  the  young  Count  of  Bellefonds,  she  heard  the  sound 
of  a  well-known  footstep  close  behind  her;  and  a  voice,  every  note  of  which  went 
directly  to  her  heart,  exclaimed — 

"  And  has  not  Mistress  Selby  one  glance  of  recognition — one  word  of  welcome  for 
an  old  friend  ?" 

She  turned  her  head  round  quickly — and  not  now  pale  and  haggard  from  long  and 
close  confinement,  as  when  he  plighted  her  his  faith,  but  full  of  health  and  vigor  and 
high  manly  beauty,  sumptuously  attired,  and  seemingly  in  the  highest  spirits,  Marina 
duke  stood  before  her.  Her  cheek,  indeed,  and  brow— nay  more !  her  neck  and  bosom 


OB,     THE    MA1D*S     REVENGE.  16l 

and  ail  the  smooth  expanse  of  her  fair  shoulders  were  suffused  for  a  moment  with  a  deep 
crimson  blush  ;  but  her  clear  eye  retained  its  natural  calmness,  and  her  melodious  voice 
did  not  falter,  as  she  extended  her  hand  to  him  frankly,  and  replied  in  French,  to  the 
words  which  he  had  spoken  in  their  own  language,  in  order  that  de  Bellefonds,  who  was 
standing  by  her  side,  might  not  conceive  himself  excluded — "  Indeed,  I  have,"  she 
said  ;  "  I  am  sincerely  glad  to  see  you ;  and  Monsieur  de  Bellefonds  here  can  tell  you, 
that  I  asked  after  you  from  him,  and  expressed  my  joy  at  your  well-doing.-1' 

"  Well,  you  will  dance  with  me,"  he  added,  "  will  you  not  ?  for  I  hav^  very  much 
to  say  to  you,  and  more  to  ask — I  cannot  guess  what  brought  you  hither :  come,  they 
are  standing  up  even  now." 

"  I  would  with  pleasure,"  she  replied,  "  and  I  will,  if  you  wish  it,  by  and  by ;  but  for 
this  time  I  am  engaged  to  the  count  here." 

"  He  looked  at  her  steadfastly  for  a  moment,  and  then  said  in  English,  in  a  low  voice, 
"  you  are  changed,  Alice,  you  are  changed — you  have  been  flirting  here  with  kings 
and  dukes  and  barons,  until  you  think  an  English  gentleman  below  your  notice."  She 
gave  him  one  look — one  !  fraught  with  the  whole  of  her  deep  mind — so  mild,  so  tender, 
yet  at  the  same  time  so  ineffably  reproachful,  that  his  eye  sank  beneath  it. 

"  Those,"  she  said,  "  sir,  who  are  the  first  to  suspect  change  in  others,  are  often  wont 
to  change  the  first  themselves."  This  time  she  spoke  in  English  ;  and  then  turning  to 
Bellefonds,  "Allans  .'"  she  said — Monsieur  le  Comte,  the  dancers  are  arranged  in  their 
places;"  and  with  the  words,  she  gave  him  her  gloved  hand,  and  passed  onward. 

"  Beautiful  creature  !"  muttered  Wyvil  to  himself — "  more  beautiful,  ten-fold  !"  and 
then  he  followed  quickly  after  them,  and  said  in  French,  as  he  overtook  them,  "  The 
next  dance  then — the  next  dance,  Mistress  Alice,  will  be  mine." 

"  Certainly,  if  you  wish  it,"  she  replied  ;  and  then  the  instruments  burst  forth  with  a 
loud  symphony,  and  all  the  graceful  forms  started  at  once  into  quick  motion  ;  and  all 
the  while,  with  his  eyes  following  the  figure  of  the  sweet  girl  whom  he  had  so  treach. 
erously  abandoned,  thinking  in  his  heart  how  far  more  lovely  she  was,  whether  in  motion 
or  repose,  than  the  gay  artificial  beauties  of  the  court,  and  drawing  comparisons  not 
very  favorable  to  Isabella  Oswald,  stood  Marmaduke,  until  the  measure  was  concluded  ; 
and,  more  than  half-regretting  his  base  fickleness,  he  received  her  from  the  hand  of  the 
young  French  nobleman. 

"  Now,  tell  me,"  he  said — "  tell  me  what  can  have  possibly  occurred,  to  bring  you  to 
Paris  ?  where  are  you  staying  ?  and  is  your  father  with  you  ?" 

"  Your  letters  were  intercepted  by  the  government,"  she  answered,  "  and  we  are 
banished  England,  and  all  our  property  sequestrated,  for  sheltering  you  after  the  Wor- 
cester fight.  We  only  came  last  night  to  Paris — my  father  is  with  me,  and  we  are  stay- 
ing with  my  cousin,  Madame  de  Gondi,  at  her  hotel  in  the  faubourg  St.  Germain, , 
where  we  shall  be  all  glad  to  see  you.  There  now,  do  not  look  so  tremendously  alarmed 
and  wo-begone  ;  for  there  is  not  much  harm  done  after  all — except  that  poor  Bartram, 
or  Colonel  Penruddock  rather,  is  desperately  hurt  and  taken  prisoner,  and,  I  fear,  dead 
ere  this — for  Cromwell  has  been  very  kind,  and  has  made  our  cousin  Chaloner  a  pro- 
mise that  he  will  grant  us  all  a  full  pardon  in  the  spring,  and  restore  all  our  property. 
So,  you  perceive,  that  all  we  have  lost  is  really  a  gain ;  for  we  have  had  a  trip  to  Paris, 
and  I  expect  to  pass  a  very  pleasant  winter.  How  very  gay  the  court  is — and  how  many 
lovely  women  !  By  the  way,"  she  continued,  running  on  very  rapidly,  for  she  was,  in 
truth,  afraid  of  his  getting  upon  subjects  too  delicate  for  the  time  and  place — subjects 
on  which,  she  knew  she  could  not  speak  without  betraying  that  agitation  which  she 
was  most  anxious  to  conceal — "  by  the  way,  although  this  is  the  first  time  you  have 
seen  me  since  I  have  been  in  France,  I  have  been  muclfmore  fortunate,  for  you  were 
the  very  first  person  I  beheld  as  we  were  entering  the  barriers.  You  galloped  past 
the  carriage  without  seeing  us,  at  which  I  did  not  wonder  very  much,  for  you  wore  in 
pursuit  of  a  very  pretty  lady — one  of  the  very  prettiest  ladies  I  ever  saw.  I  met  her 
again  in  the  garden  of  the  Tuileries  this  morning,  magnificently  dressed  in  green  vel. 
vet — who  is  she  ?  I  should  like  to  know,  she  is  so  very  handsome." 


162  MARMADT7KE     WYVILJ 

Shrewd  as  he  was,  and  deeply  versed  in  all  the  wiles  of  the  artificial  world,  Wyvil 
was  fairly  foiled  and  puzzled.  The  perfect  coolness  of  Alice  Selby's  manner,  the  lack 
of  any  seeming  consciousness,  such  as  a  girl  must  naturally  feel  and  show  in  the  pre- 
sence of  her  betrothed  lover — the  evident,  yet  quiet  cordiality  with  which  she  met  him 
as  an  old  friend,  so  perfectly  unloverlike  and  free  from  agitation,  were  all  beyond  his 
comprehension  ;  while,  at  the  same  time,  the  very  ease  and  freedom  of  her  conversa- 
tion, forbade  him  to  believe  it  possible  that  she  could  have  discovered  his  disloyalty. 
He  paused  a,  moment,  therefore,  ere  he  answered  ;  and,  when  he  did  so,  it  was  with  an 
air  of  confusion,  that  did  not  escape  the  observation  of  the  interested  questioner. 

"  Do  you  think  her  so  very  handsome  ?  rather  too  dark,  perhaps  !  Her  name  is 
Isabella  Oswald,  the  daughter  of  Sir  Henry  Oswald,  a  cavalier  who  left  England  many 
years  ago  at  the  first  outbreak  of  the  troubles,  and  hals  risen  to  the  rank  of  major-gen, 
eral  in  the  French  army." 

"Ah  I  English,  is  she  V"  replied  Alice  ;  "  she  is  certainly  very  dark  to  be  English  ; 
she  looks  more  like  a  Spaniard  or  an  Italian.  Is  she  as  agreeable  as  she  is  pretty  ?  I 
do  not  see  her  here  to-night." 

How  strangely  you  run  on ;  you  are  most  strangely  altered  since  I  last  saw  you," 
exclaimed  Marmaduke,  unable  any  longer  to  conceal  his  astonishment. 

"  Am  I,  indeed  ?"  she  said.  "  Well,  if  I  am,  it  is  the  way  of  the  world,  you  know, 
to  alter ;  but  I  hope  it  is  not  for  the  worse  that  I  am  altered.  See,  they  are  going  to 
dance  again.  'Let  us  begin." 

There  were,  in  those  days,  in  the  course  of  the  dance,  none  of  those  opportunities 
for  conversation  which  are  afforded  now  by  the  intervals  of  the  waltz  or  quadrille  ;  and, 
therefore,  Marmaduke  could  press  no  farther  his  examination  into  the  meaning  of  Alice 
Seiby'3  changed  and  peculiar  manner.  Once,  as  they  met  and  interchanged  hands  in 
the  mazes  of  the  graceful  measure,  he  pressed  her  fingers  so  closely  that  she  could  not 
have  failed  to  perceive  it ;  yet,  neither  did  she  return  the  gentle  pressure  in  the  least 
decree,  nor  did  she  seek  to  withdraw  her  hand  from  his  grasp.  A  slight  blush  crossed 
her  pale  cheek  for  a  moment,  but  except  that,  she  gave  no  sign  that  she  understood 
his  meaning. 

The  music  ceased— -the  pastime  of  the  evening  was  at  an  end — all  but  the  splendid 
banquet,  which  closed  the  regal  entertainment ;  and,  as  the  guests  filed  off  in  order, 
Alice  presented  Marmaduke  to  her  cousin,  so  that,  although  he  attended  them  during 
the  supper,  and  handed  them  to  their  carriage  afterwards,  he  got  no  opportunity  of  again 
epoaking  to  her  privately  ;  although  before  they  parted  he  asked  permission,  which  was 
granted  readily,  to  visit  her  on  the  morrow. 

"  Well,  Alice,  well ;"  exclaimed  Madame  de  Gondi,  the  moment  they  were  left 
alone,  "  what  do  you  think  about  it  now  ?" 

"  That  he  was  false,  and  has  half  repented  of  his  falsehood,"  replied  the  fair  girl. 

"  And  what  then  ?"  asked  her  cousin  eagerly.  "Will  you  forgive  the  penitent? 
Say  you  will,  dearest,  say  you  will,  in  pity  to  yourself ;  for  I  declare  I  never  saw  a  girl 
more  desperately  in  love — every  look,  every  movement  shows  it." 

"  I  must  not  promise,"  answered  Alice,  with  a  faint  smile  ;  "  I  must  not  bind  my- 
self; for  I  do  not  know — I  must  learn — I  must  learn  how  far  this  has  gone.  But  I 
fear — I  can  only  say,  I  fear  very  greatly." 

"  Oh,  you  should  never  fear.     I  always  hope  ;  always  expect  the  best " 

"  And  are  always  disappointed — that  follows  as  a  thing  of  course  ;"  said  Alice. 

"  Not  always  ;  no,  not  always  ;"  replied  Henriette,  "  for  I  fully  expected  to  find  a 
very  sweet  girl  in  my  cousin  Alice,  and  that  she  would  win  the  heart  of  every  one  who 
saw  her  ;  and  there,  you  see,  I  was  not  at  all  disappointed,  but  was  quite  right.  But, 
here  we  are  at  home ;  and,  I  declare,  it  is  already  almost  morning. 


6R,    THE    MAID'S    Rj2?ENGfi,  163 


CHAPTER   XXIX. 

Jtf  one  of  the  bye-streets  of  Paris,  not  very  far  distant  from  the  palace  of  the  Louvre, 
liierr.  was  a  large  old  fashioned  house,  standing  a  little  way  back,  with  a  narrow  yard 
befoie  it  surroucded  by  an  iron  railing.  The  outer  door  stood  open,  but  just  within  it 
there  was  anotb  3r  scarcely  less  strong  than  the  first,  having  a  grated  wicket  in  its  upper 
panel,  by  which  the  porter,  an  old  invalided  soldier,  might  reconnoiter  the  faces  of  all 
visitors,  before  admitting  them.  In  this  large  house,  as  is  so  much  the  custom  at  the 
present  day  on  the  continent,  there  was  one  common  staircase,  with  several  strong 
doors,  one  or  more  on  each  landing  ;  the  several  floors  being  let  separately  as  suites  of 
apartments  to  travellers,  or  those  natives  who  had  neither  houses  of  their  own  nor  the 
means  of  maintaining  them.  On  the  third  floor  of  this  building  there  was  a  handsome 
suite  of  rooms,  consisting  of  an  antechamber  with  a  small  closet  opening  from  it  for  a 
servant,  a  large  saloon,  a  spacious  and  luxurious  bedchamber,  and  several  small  apart. 
ments  for  the  attendants  of  a  gentleman  of  consequence  ;  and,  at  a  late  hour  of  the 
night,  or  it  would  be,  perhaps,  more  correct  to  say,  early  in  the  morning  that  succeeded 
the  royal  ball,  the  principal  room  of  the  suite  was  brightly  illuminated,  and  occupied  by 
a  person  who  appeared  in  no  wise  inclined  to  sleep,  though  all  the  rest  of  the  inhabit 
ants  of  the  great  city  were  buried  in  deep  slumber.  The  room,  as  I  have  said,  was 
largo  and  airy,  with  windows  reaching  to  the  ground,  and  was  well  furnished  with  a 
rich  carpet  on  the  floor,  and  hangings  on  the  walls.  Two  or  three  slabs  and  tables  of 
various  forms  were  ranged  against  the  panels,  or  occupied  the  central  space,  covered 
with  Persian  carpets,  and  littered  with  a  variety  of  articles  for  use  and  show  —  some 
ornamental  vases  and  other  specimens  of  the  antique  that  might  have  charmed  a  vir- 
tuoso, papers,  and  books,  and  instruments  of  music,  two  or  three  swords  with  their 
embroidered  baldrics,  a  plumed  hat,  gloves  with  silver  fringes,  a  scarlet  mantle  heavily 
laced  with  gold,  and  many  other  things  which  seemed  to  designate  the  occupant  for  a 
man  of  elegant  and  intellectual  tastes,  a  soldier  and  a  gentleman.  Over  the  mantel- 
piece was  hung  a  richly-chased  and  inlaid  musketoon,  and  a  pair  of  long  horseman's 
pistols  with  Spanish  barrels,  at  that  time  the  most  famous  in  the  world  ;  and,  upon 
hooks,  along  the  wall  facing  the  windows,  were  several  cuirasses  of  steel,  two  polished 
head-pieces,  and  several  pair  of  gauntlets  ;  and  below  them  three  of  the  long,  straight, 
double-edged  swords  peculiar.  to  the  cavalry  of  the  period.  A  little  fire  of  wood  was 
burning  on  the  hearth,  for  though  the  autumn  was  not  far  advanced,  and  the  days 
were  yet  warm,  the  nights  were  chilly  ;  and,  near  the  fire,  there  had  been  placed  a 
small  round  table,  with  a  silver  lamp,  a  writing-desk  bestrewn  with  notes  and  letters, 
most  of  them  written  in  a  feminine  hand,  and  among  these  a  miniature  portrait,  in 
enamel,  of  an  exceedingly  beautiful  girl  with  dark  hair  and  eyes,  and  a  marked  aspect 
of  voluptuous  boldness.  A  large  arm-chair  stood  close  to  the  table,  as  if  some  one  had 
just  occupied  it;  but  it  had  been  pushed  a  little  way  back,  and  Marmaduke  Wyvil,  for 
it  was  to  him  these  rooms  belonged,  was  walking  to  and  fro  the  floor,  with  rapid  and 
irregular  strides  ;  his  face  all  pale  and  bloodless,  his  eye  full  of  a  wild  and  anxious  rest- 
lessness, and  his  arms  folded  on  his  breast  with  the  hands  tightly  clenched.  Several 
times  he  walked  up  and  down  the  saloon,  pausing  at  each  turn,  and  standing  still  beside 
the  table  for  a  little  while,  gazing  upon  the  letters  and  the  miniature,  although  there 
was  but  little  speculation  in  the  fixed  stare  with  which  he  regarded  them  ;  and,  although 
he  seemed  hardly  conscious  how  he  was  occupied,  at  last  he  caught  the  picture  up,  and 
gazed  upon  it  earnestly. 

"  Lovely  1"  he  said,  "  ay,  it  is  very  lovely  !  but,  after  all,  it  is  the  loveliness  of  a 
bona  roba,  rather  than  of  a  wife  ;  and,  when  you  see  them  both  together,  she  is  not 
hah0  so  truly  beautiful.  I  marvel  how  I  could  have  so  forgotten  !"  He  paused  again 
for  a  moment  or  two,  and  casting  down  the  portrait  half  disdainfully  —  "  Curses  !"  he 
muttered  between  his  teeth  —  "  curses  upon  it!  This  comes  of  playing  double  !  Both 
won  —  ay,  both  ;  and  now,  I  trow,  both  lost  I  And  then,  and  then  ?"  and  he  resumed 


164  MARMADtJKE     W  Y  V I L  ; 

his  hurried  strides,  smiting  his  forehead  with  his  hand  as  he  did  so,  and  muttering 
stifled  imprecations. 

He  econ,  however,  became  tired  of  pacing  and  repacing  the  apartment ;  and  again 
threw  himself  into  the  chair,  covering  his  face  with  both  his  hands.  After  a  little  while 
he  again  started  up,  and  nothing  could  more  thoroughly  display  the  perturbation  and 
the  agony  of  his  mind,  than  did  the  sharp,  and  kee.-,,  and  haggard  look  which  had  come 
over  his  smooth  features ;  changing  him,  in  the  space  of  a  few  hours,  from  a  fresh-look- 
ing fair  young  man,  to  a  pale,  conscience-stricken,  spectral-looking  personage.  "  Let 
me  think,"  he  said,  as  he  did  so  ;  "I  must  think — for  there  is  everything  to  gain,  and 
more  than  all  to  lose.  Let  me  think !"  and  he  did  think,  very  long  and  deeply ;  and 
though  he  spoke  no  more  aloud,  he  muttered  to  himself  often  ;  and  his  th  >ughts  shaped 
and  arranged  themselves  in  words  and  sentences,  almost  as  definite  as  those  which  he 
had  just  before  enunciated. 

"  This  girl,"  so  ran  his  anxious  meditation — "  this  artless  and  unsophisticated  girl ! 
what  can  it  mean  ?  I  do  not  understand.  Ey  heaven !  no  regular  town  beauty,  ac- 
customed for  long  years  to  all  tFfe  homage,  all  the  gay  flattery  of  courts,  could  carry  it 
more  easily.  So  calm,  so  self-possessed,  so  graceful !  Can  she  have  heard  ?  can  she 
suspect  ?  No,  no !  it  is  not  possible  ;  there  would  have  been  wrath,  indignation,  jeal- 
ousy !  No,  no  !  she  could  not  so  have  met  me,  could  not  have  so  conversed  with  me, 
and  that,  too,  touching  Isabella,  had  she  dreamed  only  that  she  was  her  rival — her  suc- 
cessful rival !  And  yet  in  what — in  what  is  there  comparison,  or  rivalry  ?  In  what  ?  in 
nothing.  She  must  I  she  shall  be  mine  !"  and,  with  the  thought,  he  sprang  up  from 
his  chair,  and  began  once  more  to  stride  with  heavy  and  irregular  steps,  to  and  fro  the 
saloon,  till  he  stopped  once  again,  and  said  aloud — "  And  what  then — what  with  Isa- 
bella ?  her  fiery  Spanish  temper,  when  she  shall  find  herself  deserted  !  There  will  be 
no  restraint,  no  curb  upon  its  fury !  no  corselet  that  could  ward  off  her  sharp  vengeance  ! 
And  it  was  but  to-day ;  this  cursed — ay,  doubly  cursed  to-day  !  that  I  committed  my- 
self to  her,  beyond  all  retraction — and  if  I  could  retract,  would  Alice  hear  me  ?  There 
was  no  love  in  her  cool  eye — no  consciousness,  either  of  injury  endured,  or  of  reani- 
mating tenderness,  or  of  premeditated  wrong.  All  calm,  as  if  we  had  been  ever 
friends — more  than  friends  ever !  Oh  !  I  am  hedged  about  with  toils  on  every  side — 
beset,  betrayed — thousands  of  devils !  ruined — ay,  ruined  beyond  hope  !  My  estates 
forfeited  !  ay,  and  the  very  hope  of  their  restoration  gone — sold  to  the  pestilent  Jews 
— lost  1  lost !  beyond  redemption !  Ha !"  as  a  sudden  thought,  as  if  by  inspiration , 
flashed  on  his  soul — "  ha !  but  Sir  Henry  might  refuse — might  ?  would  !  By  heaven  ! 
I  have  observed  it  in  his  /eye,  his  voice,  his  manner !  and,  till  this  night,  that  was  my 
terror — that  which  shall  be  my  preservation.  He  knows,  too,  or  suspects,  I  fancy,  that 
I  am  given  to  those  infernal  cubes  of  bone — those  devilish  dice  !  but  if  I  once  succeed, 
I  have  done  with  them  for  ever !  Ay — that  is  it,  seek  out  a  quarrel  with  Sir  Henry, 
and  find  in  that  a  cause  for  rupture  with  this  bold  beauty — had  I  but  known  this  some- 
what sooner,  I  might  have  won  her  without  marriage  !  but  that  is  too  late  now !  She 
is  the  richer,  though — tush  !  "Woolverton  is  worth  three  thousand,  every  pound  of  it,  in 
yearly  rent ;  and  the  old  graybeard  scholar,  simple  as  any  child,  and  unsuspicious — it 
is  the  better,  the  better  every  way !  And  Alice — ay,  sweet  Alice  !  in  good  truth,  she 
is  the  only  woman  I  ever  looked  upon,  that  was  worth  love — love  !  ay,  I  do  .love 
her — have  loved  her  always — although  necessity,  and  opportunity,  and  this  girl's  beauty 
blinded  me  for  a  while  ;  there  needed  but  one  tone  of  her  soft  voice,  one  glance  of 
those  sweet  eyes,  to  argue  me  of  guilt !  of  madness  !  But  it  shall  soon  be  ended  ! 
This  morning  I  will  see  her — this  morning  seal  my  recantation,  and  the  rest  will  be 
soon  managed." 

He  took  a  few  more  turns  about  the  room,  then  entered  his  bedchamber  hastily,  and 
pulling  off  his  boots,  threw  himself  down  without  undressing  further ;  and  wearied, 
both  in  mind  and  body,  soon  forgot  all  his  plots  and  cares  in  profound  slumber.  The 
sun  was  high  in  the  heavens,  and  the  streets  of  Paris  had  been  filled  for  several  hours, 
with  all  their  dissonant  and  ceaseless  din,  before  he  summoned  his  attendants,  and, 


OR,     THE     MAID'S     REVENGE.  165 

dressing  himself  with  unusual  care,  ordered  his  horses,  and  sat  down  to  amuse  himself 
during  their  preparation,  by  dallying  with  his  morning  meal. 

Alice,  meantime,  on  her  return  from  the  ball,  had  been  met  by  a  strange  and  glad 
surprise ;  for,  scarcely  had  she  reached  the  head  of  the  great  staircase,  before  her  girl 
Margaret  came  running  out,  full  of  wild  and  eager  joy,  with  her  eyes  sparkling — 

"  Oh !  Mistress  Alice,  they  have  come.  I  am  so  glad — so  glad — they  have  all  come !" 
Who  have  come,  Margaret  ?  what  in  the  world  ails  you  ?"  asked  Alice,  greatly 
astonished  and  half-frightened. 

"  Why,  General  Henry,  Mistress  Alice  ;  and  Master  Fletcher,  the  steward,  and 
Anthony  and  Matthew  Harland,  and  Frank  Norman,  who  used  to  live  with  the  Lord 
Fairfax.  The  general  was  up  stairs  with  Master  Selby  for  an  hour  or  better,  soon  after 
you  went  hence." 

"  Well !  this  is  good  news,  Margaret,"  Alice  replied  ;  "did  you  see  General  Henry?" 

"  Oh  yes  !  I  saw  him,  and  he  knew  me  instantly,  and  left  word  with  me  that  he 
would  call  and  see  you  very  early,  at  nine  o'clock.  So  you  had  better  go  to  bed  directly, 
or  you  will  never  be  afoot  in  time  to  see  him.  And  all  the  folks  are  well  at  Woolver- 
ton  except  poor  old  dame  Rainsford,  who  has  been  dead  some  time — and  good  John 
Sherlock  is  striving  hard  to  get  Marian — but  Marian  never  will  wed  any  more,  I  think." 

"  Never,  indeed,"  said  Alice  with  a  sigh,  "  she  has  loved  once  too  deeply !"  and, 
without  saying  any  more,  she  suffered  the  girl  to  undress  her,  and  lay  down.  But  she 
continued  sleepless  until  within  an  hour  of  the  time  when  Margaret  had  been  ordered 
to  awaken  her,  and  when  she  slept  at  last,  her  sleep  was  restless  and  uneasy ;  and  when 
she  rose  her  face  was  extremely  pale,  and  its  expression  painful,  and  exceedingly  unlike 
its  usually  calm  and  serene  character.  The  glance  of  her  eye,  too,  as  her  maid  observed, 
was  uncommonly  bright  and  glassy ;  and  ere  she  had  been  long  up,  a  round  defined  spot 
of  hectic  crimson  settling  on  either  cheek,  remained  there  throughout  the  day — an  evi- 
dence of  the  strong  conflict  that  was  at  work  within.  Chaloner  arrived,  as  he  had 
promised  to  do,  at  an  early  hour ;  and  was,  as  ever,  all  that  was  kind,  affectionate,  and 
noble.  He  was,  he  told  her,  on  his  way  to  the  Hague,  whither  he  had  been  appointed 
as  a  special  envoy  to  their  High  Mightenesses,  for  the  purpose  of  demanding  reparation 
of  wrongs  and  outrages  done  to  the  British  commissioners  by  certain  royal  refugees ; 
and  had  been  induced  to  take  Paris  on  his  route,  partly  on  business  of  the  state,  and 
partly  from  the  wish  of  seeing  her,  and  communicating  to  her,  in  person,  the  agreeable 
tidings,  that-  a  full  pardon  had  been  made  in  due  form  to  herself  and  Master  Selby, 
accompanied  by  a  reversal  of  the  decree  of  sequestration — "  So  that  your  property  is 
all  restored  to  you,"  he  said,  "  after  a  very  brief  alienation,  during  which  you  will  find 
that  it  has  suffered  no  diminution,  or  detriment  whatever.  I  have  likewise  obtained  a 
full  indemnity,  and  permission  to  return  to  England  at  his  pleasure,  for  your  friend, 
Major  Wyvil,  whom  I  shall  endeavor  to  see  to-day,  in  order  that  I  may  congratulate 
him  on  his  fortune — for  your  good  father,  my  dear  Alice,  has  told  me  everything ;  and 
I  know  that  he  is  to  be  the  owner  of  that  hand  and  heart,  to  which  I  once  so  foolishly 
aspired.  But  it  is  the  best  as  it  is.  Even  as  all  the  things  of  the  Great  Maker's  plan, 
ning  are  better  than  the  fitful  dreams  of  mortals !  and  I  thank  HIM  that  it  is  so — that  I 
can  freely  and  fully  wish  you  all  that  happiness  which  you  so  merit,  without  one  feel- 
ing of  base  envy,  or  weak  repining,  at  the  success  of  another  ;  who,  I  can  well  believe, 
is  better  fitted  far  than  I,  to  make  you  happy.  I  feel,  that  had  I  won  that  heart  ami 
hand,  they  would  have  all  unfitted  me  for  the  vocation  to  which  I  am  unerringly 
devoted — my  country's  service  !  There  is  nought  now  to  distract  me  from  my  single  line 
of  duties,  and  I  believe  and  feel,  that  I  shall  be  as  happy  in  following  out  what  I  know 
to  be  the  right  course,  as  you,  I  trust,  will  be  in  that  sphere  to  which  God  has  called  you.' 

"  Oh,  Henry !"  replied  Alice,  affected  almost  to  tears ;  "  ever  the  same — the  same 
pure,  noble,  excellent !  I  thank  our  God  most  fervently  and  truly  that  you  are  happy, 
and,  I  doubt  not,  you  will  be  happier  tenfold  in  your  high  course,  than  any  being,  so 
poor  and  frail  as  I,  could  have  made  you  by  love,  had  it  been  mine  to  give ;  but,"  and 
her  voice  faltered  for  a  moment,  till  with  a  little  effort  she  recovered  herself,  and  spoke 


166  MARMADTTKE 

quite  firmly ;  "  I  think  you  are  mistaken — I  do  not  believe  that  I  shall  ever  be  tne  bride 
of  Major  Wyvil." 

"  How  !"  exclaimed  Chaloner — "  how  !  not  the  bride  of  Wyvil  ?  why,  it  was  but  last 
night  your  father  told  me  that  it  should  be  so !  How,  Alice  !"  and  his  whole  grand  and 
noble  face  brightened  with  glorious  indignation ;  "  this  man,  whom  you  rescued  from 
destruction,  well-nigh  at  the  price  of  your  own  ruin — this  man  has  not — cannot  have 
dared  to  slight  you  ?" 

"  Cousin,"  said  Alice  quietly — ."  dear  cousin  Henry,  you  must  now  ask  me  nothing. 
Be  sure  that  should  poor  Alice  Selby  require  defence  or  aid,  there  is  no  arm  on  earth 
from  which  she  would  so  gladly  seek  it  as  from  his  who  did  once  save  her !  But  there 
is  no  cause  now — not  even  why  I  should  ask  advice — and,  trust  me,  I  know  well  how 
to  provide  for  my  own  dignity  and  happiness  and  honor." 

"  Indeed  you  do,"  Chaloner  answered,  his  wonted  calmness  conquering  the  brief 
passion  ;  "  I  never  doubted  it,  so  far  as  dignity  or  honor — the  way  of  these  is  clear  and 
not  to  be  mistaken  by  an  eye  which  takes,  like  yours,  truth  for  its  only  lamp.  But 
happiness !  happiness,  Alice !  men  often  toil  to  win  what  they  deem  happiness,  and, 
when  won,  find  it  anguish  !  But  this  I  cannot  understand — you  loved  him  once." 

"  You  cannot,  Henry,  you  cannot,"  she  replied.  <k  But  I  did  love  him,  or  perchance 
I  had  loved  a  better  man,  if  not  a  brighter — and  I  do  love  him  yet,  and  I  shall  love  him 
while  I  live.  But,  Henry,  do  you  remember  how  my  mother  died  ?  Look  at  my  cheek, 
and  eye,  and  see  if  you  cannot  therein  read  the  signs  of  the  same  sure  destroyer  ?" 

He  started  ;  for,  with  these  words,  a'  terror  almost  amounting  to  conviction  flashed 
on  his  soul,  and  he  believed  almost  that  her  foreboding  was  prophetic.  He  tried,  for  a 
little  space,  to  conquer  this  depression,  to  give  the  conversation  a  more  cheerful  tone  ; 
but  it  was  useless  all,  and  ere  long  he  departed,  with  a  promise  to  revisit  her  in  the 
evening : 

"  Wnen,"  he  added,  as  he  left  the  room,  "  I  trust  I  shall  find  you  with  better  and 
more  cheerful  spirits  ;  for  I  feel  sure  that  you  are  overtired,  and  you  had  better  take 
some  rest."  But,  as  he  descended  the  great  stairs,  he  muttered  to  himself,  "  There  is 
more — there  is  something  more  in  this !  I  fear  he  is  a  villain !  I  will  watch — I  will 
watch  !  It  is  providential  that  I  came  here.  I  will  see  St.  Eloy ;  I  fancy  he  can  tell  me,  or 
find  out — I  will  see  St.  Eloy  forthwith  !"  Thus  saying,  he  reached  the  door,  and  was  just 
going  down  the  steps  into  the  yard,  where  his  horses  waited  for  him,  when  a  young 
cavalier,  gorgeously  dressed,  but  rather  in  the  English  than  in  the  French  fashion,  and 
mounted  on  a  superior  charger,  entered  the  porte  cochere,  and  throwing  his  rein  to  one 
of  his  attendants,  leaped  to  the  ground,  came  quickly  up  to  the  door — and  face  to  face 
stood  Chaloner  and  the  very  man  on  whom  his  thoughts  were  running  at  the  moment. 

"  Ha!  Major  Wyvil,  I  believe,"  said  Chaloner,  raising  his  hand  quietly  to  his  hat ;  "  the 
last  time  we  met  was  in  a  hotter  place." 

"  I  do  not  recollect  at  all,"  Marmaduke  answered  ;  "  I  am  Major  Wyvil,  very  much 
at  your  service  ;  but  I  do  not  recollect  when  we  have  met  before ;  nor  have  I  even  now 
the  happiness  of  knowing  whom  I  am  addressing." 

"We  met  last,  sir,"  Chaloner  answered,  "  upon  Worcester  field — on  different  sides 
it  is  true — and  I  had  the  honor  of  exchanging  two  thrusts  and  a  cut  with  you,  till  we 
were  parted  by  the  melee — but  all  this  is  ended  now  happily.  My  name  is  Henry 
Chaloner ;  and  as  I  understand  we  are  soon  to  be  cousins,  I  hope  we  may  be  good 
friends.  I  believe  I  speak  to  my  fair  kinswoman,  Alice  Selby's  destined  husband.  I 
had  a  cause  for  speaking  to  you  now,  sir — since,  in  consideration  of  what  I  heard  and 
believed  true,  I  was  induced  to  apply  to  the  person  who  now  virtually  governs  England  ; 
and,  having  some  weight  with  him,  I  am  very  happy  to  say,  that  I  succeeded  in  obtain- 
ing from  him  the  full  pardon  of  Major  Marmaduke  Wyvil,  with  permission  to  return 
home  at  his  own  will  and  pleasure.  If  you  will  do  me  the  favor  to  call  at  my  lodging 
— General  Chaloner's  lodging  in  the  Rue  Royale — I  will  give  you  the  document, 
formally  sealed  and  witnessed.  In  the  mean  time,  I  will  not  detain  you  from  more  fair 
society.  Give  you  good  day,  sir  j"  and  bowing,  in  reply  to  Wyvil's  profuse  thanks  and 


OR,     THE     MAID5S     REVEKGE.  167 

acknowledgments,  he  mounted  his  horse  and  rode  silently  away.  The  face  of  the 
other  brightened  with  exultation. 

"  Free  pardon  !"  he  exclaimed  aloud,  "  and  full  permission  to  return  !  And  Wool, 
verton,  and  Alice  Selby  !"  he  added  in  a  lower  tone — "  Fortune,  thou  art  a  Goddess  !" 
He  entered  the  house,  and  giving  his  name  to  a  servant,  was  immediately  ushered  into 
the  presence  of  Alice,  who  was  waiting  alone  to  receive  the  visit  that  was  to  determine 
her  fate  for  ever.  The  meeting  of  the  lovers  was  not  as  such  are,  or  should  be  ;  both 
were  confused,  embarrassed,  almost  cold  ;  but  Alice  was  the  first  to  recover  herself, 
and  she  spoke,  as  was  usual  to  her  frank  and  open  disposition,  freely  at  once  and  to  the 
point. 

"lam  glad  you  have  come  here  to-day,"  she  said,  "  Major  Wyvil,  for  I  have  much 
to  say  to  you,  and  hear  from  you  ;  and  I  will  pray  you — " 

"  But  why  so  cold,"  he  vehemently  interrupted — "  why  so  calmly  and  bitterly  cold, 
Alice  ?  Why  '  Major  Wyvil  ?'  time  was  when  I  was  Marmaduke.  Is  it,  can  it  be 
possible,  that  Alice  Selby — -the  pure,  and  true,  and  tender  Alice  Selby — can  have  so 
fallen  off  from  her  plighted  faith,  so  utterly  forgot  the  vows  she  swore,  not  one  year 
past — so  totally  overcome  the  love  she  once  professed  !"• 

"  Professed  !"  exclaimed  Alice,  her  beautiful  eyes  flashing  fire—"  Professed  !  No, 
Marmaduke,  it  is  not — it  is  not  possible  ;  no  word  of  it  is  possible  or  true — and  that  no 
man  more  surely  knows,  than  you  do  !  I  did,  as  you  say,  plight  my  faith  ;  and  from 
that  faith  my  soul  has  never  swerved — no  !  not  so  much  as  a  hair's  breadth  ;  and  never 
will  swerve  while  the  life  quivers  in  my  veins  !  Nay !  hear  me  out,  for  I  must  speak  ! 
I  did,  as  you  say,  profess  to  love  you — for,  as  you  know  too  well,  I  did — did  love  you  ! 
oh  !  man,  man !  you  cannot  know  how  deeply !  But  let  me  ask  you  now,  and  I  adjure 
you  answer  me  frankly,  truly,  freely — so  may  all  yet  be  well — God  is  my  gracious 
judge,  that  I  ask  it  in  no  mean  spirit  of  suspicion  or  vain  jealousy  ;  but  in  that  I  have 
heard  things  that  must,  will  be  heard,  and  must  be  answered.  Have  you,  Marmaduke 
Wyvil — have  you  not  fallen  from  the  faith  you  pledged  to  me  at  Woolverton  ?  Have 
you  not  so  forgotten  the  vows  you  then  swore,  as — I  say  not  to  flirt,  or  toy,  or  trifle — 
but  to  pledge  solemn  vows  to  another  ?  Have  you  not  so  overcome  the  love  which 
you  once  felt  for  me — for  I  believe  that  you  did  feel  it — as  to  lose  sight  of  me  in  absence, 
and  give  your  heart  up  to  another  ?  Pause  !  pause  !  I  beseech  you,  and  answer  truly  ; 
and  above  all,  fear  not  too  harsh  a  judge  in  your  poor  Alice — for  my  heart  yearns 
toward  you,  Marmaduke,  with  an  undying  love  ;  and  I  would  fain  be  yours,  if  yours  I 
may  be  honorably,  in  this  life  a»d  for  ever !" 

He  did  pause — he  did  reflect — and  the  better  spirit  that  was  for  the  time  awakened 
in  him,  half-prompted,  half-persuaded  him  to  own  the  truth — to  confess  his  brief  hallu- 
cination, to  throw  himself  at  her  feet,  and  implore  her  pardon.  But  no  !  he  thought,  no  ! 
woman  cannot  forgive  such  errors — and  then  he  proudly  raised  his  head  ;  and,  though 
his  soul  quailed  in  him  with  the  dread  sickening  sensation  of  conscious  guilt  and  base- 
ness,  he  proudly  answered — with  a  lie  ! 

"Never  !"  he  said — "never  !  so  help  me  HE,  wha looks  on  all  things — no,  never!" 
and  he  went  on  so  rapidly,  heaping  asseveration  on  asseveration,  that  she  could  not, 
although  she  wished  it,  interrupt  or  check  him.  "I  may,  as  you  say,  have  laughed, 
and  danced,  and  whispered  tender  nonsense  in  ears  that  believed  it  not ;  but  never  !  on 
my  salvation,  Alice,  never  has  my  faith  ever  wavered — never  has  vow  been  plighted — 
or  love  felt  by  me,  for  any  girl  or  woman,  saving  you  only,  Alice !" 

"  Have  you  done  ?"  she  exclaimed  fiercely — "  have  you  done  now  ?  Never  to 
Isabella  Oswald  ?  Oh  !  think — think  Wyvil,  ere  you  speak — think  and  beware  !  for  I 
have  heard,  and  seen,  and  know  !" 

"  Never !  oh,  Alice,  I  swear  never  !  I  will  swear — " 

"  Swear  NOTHING  !"  she  looked  at  him,  with  an  air  of  majesty  so  perfect  and  so  grand, 
that  he  could  not  brook  it,  but  cowed  before  her  like  a  whipped  and  whimpering 
hound — "  you  have  already  sworn  too  deeply,  and  too  falsely  !  A  traitor,  traitor,  traitor  I 
Oh,  man !  that  I  should  so  have  loved  you — that  I  should  even  now,  knowing  you  base 


168  MARMADTTKE     WYVIt, 

and  false  beyond  conception,  still  love — almost  adore  you!  No  words !  no  words! 
Listen — I  sat  yestreen  in  a  green  bower  of  the  Tuileries — there  is  another  unseen  bower 
just  behind  it — and  thither,  while  I  sat — thither  came  Isabella  Oswald  ;  and  there  to  her 
did  Marmaduke  Wyvil — ay,  you  pale  now  and"  tremble  !  swear,  as  "he  swore  to-day 
to  me,  that  he  did  never  love,  did  never  even  think  of  Alice  Selby  !  her  answer  I  heard 
not.  Oh,  Wyvil,  Wyvil !  you  know  not  what  a  heart  you  have  cast  off  from  you  for  ever  I 
Even  to-day,  had  you  frankly  owned  your  error ;  had  you  convinced  me  that  it  was 
but  a  temporary  and  involuntary  treason  ;  had  you  showed  me  that  her  happiness  was  not 
jeoparded — even  to-day,  I  had  taken  you  to  my  bosom  :  I  had  said,  '  all  is  forgotten, 
all  is  forgiven — let  us  be  happy,  Marmaduke  !'  but  now — " 

"  Oh  !  say  so— say  so  now  !"  exclaimed  Wyvil,  falling  upon  his  knees  before  her. 

"  Kneel  not  to  me,"  she  said — "  kneel  not  to  me,  but  to  the  great  God,  whom  you 
have  so  grievously  insulted  !" 

But  he  went  on,  quite  disregarding  her  interruption — 

"  For  it  is  all  as  you  have  said,  it  was  mere  frenzy — the  wild  frenzy  of  a  moment." 

"  Degrade  yourself  no  more,"  she  said,  in  a  voice  wherein  no  touch  of  passion,  anger, 
or  pity,  or  contempt,  was  audible ;  but  slow  and  even  and  majestic,  as  one  might  ima- 
gine the  voice  to  have  sounded  from  the  oracular  tripod — "  degrade  yourself  no  more, 
but  leave  me — strive  not,  speak  not — your  case  is  hopeless  !  Not  for  the  empire  of  the 
universe,  would  Alice  Selby  marry  a  man  whom  she  thoroughly  despises.  And  I — 
Marmaduke  Wyvil,  the  words  must  be  spoken — I  love  you  still,  I  shall  for  ever  love 
you.  I  shall  rejoice  to  hear  of  your  well-being,  of  your  well-doing,  of  your  repenting,  of 
your  becoming  what  I  fear  too  deeply  you  never  will — an  upright  and  honorable  man ; 
but  I  thoroughly — ay,  utterly  depise  you !  A  cowardly,  base  LIE  !  sworn  to  two  trust- 
ing women  !  Oh  !  you  have  filled  my  heart  with  fire — oh !  you  have  heaped  my  head  with 
ashes,  blighted  my  young  fresh  life — left  me  no  hope,  nor  aim,  nor  object ;  but  only  a 
long  solitary  waste  of  weary  days  to  traverse — a  long  sad  pilgrimage  to  travel,  unlight- 
ened  by  a  gleam  of  hope,  unaided  and  forsaken,  before  I  may  find  rest  in  the  grave  I 
All  this  have  you  done  to  me ;  yet  I  forgive,  I  love,  and  I  will  pray  for  you.  Begone  1 
begone  !  and  commune  with  your  own  soul  in  silence  !  repent  and  prosper  !  No  word 
of  what  has  passed  between  us  will  I  breathe  to  any  mortal  ear,  so  long  as  you  insult 
me  not  with  your  addresses.  Speak  one  word  more  to  shake  my  resolution !  presume 
to  persecute  me  with  your  love  hereafter !  and  I  will  blazon  forth  your  infamy  to  the 
broad  world,  if  my  heart  break  in  uttering  it.  Begone — farewell !  farewell  for  ever  !} 
-  And,  goaded  by  the  stings  of  that  dread  conscience,  more  terrible  avengers  than  the 
blood-hunting  serpent-locked  Eumenides,  he  rushed  forth  from  her  presence  with  the 
undying  worm  already  gnawing  at  the  heart  strings  ;  while  she,  deserted  by  the  strength 
that  had  so  nerved  her  in  his  presence,  drew  a  long  sob,  and  fell  to  the  ground  sense, 
less — and  lay  there  till  she  was  found,  cold  and  unconscious,  by  Madame  de  Gondi ;  who, 
seeing  the  precipitate  departure  of  the  false  lover,  and  therefrom  foreboding  evil,  came 
hurriedly  to  see  her,  barely  in  time  to  bring  her  back  once  more  to  that  long  act  of 
agony,  which  is  called  life  by  mortals. 


CHAPTER    XXX 

MANY  days  passed,  before  Alice  Selby  sufficiently  recovered  to  leave  her  chamberr 
A  fever  had  attacked  her,  produced  by  anxiety  and  undue  excitement,  and  for  a  consid- 
erable time  she  had  been  quite  delirious ;  but  she  had  partially  recovered,  and  was  en- 
abled now  to  rise  and  return  to  her  ordinary  avocations  and  amusements,  although  it 
was  still  considered  improper  that  she  should  leave  the  house.  It  could  not  fail,  more- 
over, to  be  seen  by  every  person  who  was  the  least  interested,  that  she  had  been  indeed 
fearfully  shaken  by  the  brief  illness  she  had  undergone,  or  perhaps  by  the  causes  which 
had  produced  it.  Her  slight  but  rounded  figure  had  lost  much  of  its  graceful  contour, 


'A  -" 

^  '       ' 

OR,     THE     MA!D5S     REVENGE.  169 

lovely  eyes  were  sunken ;  but,  at  the  same  time,  there  was  a  clear  and  glassy  glitter 
in  their  orbs,  a  cold  transparant  lustre,  that  tells  too  surely  the  presence  in  the  vitals  of 
that  dread  minister  of  death,  fatal  consumption  !  All  healthy  color  had  deserted  her  pale 
face,  and  in  its  place  glared  the  fell  hectic  spots,  now  permanently  fixed,  as  though 
,.they  had  been  branded  upon  each  cheek-bone — she  was  extremely  weak,  moreover, 
Barrel  a  sljg-nt  husky  cough  would  at  times  shake  her  for  a  moment ;  and  those  profuse 
night  ^perspirations,  most  fatal  signs  of  all  that  mark  the  progress  of  the  insidious  slayer, 
reduced  her,  as  it  might  be  said,  to  a  shadow  of  her  former  self.  Every  one  noted  the 
sad  change,  even  the  meditative  unobservant  scholar  ;  and,  though  he  spoke  not  on  the 
subject,  it  might  be  seen  by  the  wistful  gaze  which  he  would  rivet  for  hours  together 
on  her  face,  as  she  sat  reading  or  employed  in  some  feminine  occupation  near  him,  and 
by  the  sad  and  hopeless  air  with  which  he  would  shake  his  thin  gray  locks,  and  mutter 
half-heard  words — "  it  was  thus  with  her  mother."  Madame  de  Gondi  saw  at  once, 
and  appreciated  fully,  the  whole  extent  of  the  evil ;  and  she  alone,  it  may  be  said,  knew 
really  the  secret  cause — for,  although  Selby  himself  much  suspected  that  Wyvil  had  be- 
trayed and  deceived  her,  he  did  not  know  at  all  the  circumstances  which  had  occurred ; 
nor  was  he  aware  even,  that  she  and  Marmaduke  had  met  since  their  arrival  in  the 
French  capital.  Chaloner,  who  was  yet  more  suspicious,  and  who  had  £is<j*ertained  be- 
yond doubt  from  his  friend,  the  old  Marquis  de  St.  Eloy — himself  the  father  of  a  very 
lovely  child,  who  was  sought  in  marriage  by  Wyvil's  friend,  Bellechassaigne — that 
Marmaduke  had  been  paying  very  undue  attentions  to  Isabella  Oswald,  and  who  knew 
that  he  had  been  with  Alice  immediately  before  her  seizure,  was  yet  unable  to  make 
up  his  mind  as  to  the  exact  truth ;  and  till  he  could  do  so,  was  perfectly  determined 
neither  to  take  any  action,  nor  even  to  speak  on  the  subject.  Meantime,  driven  to  despe- 
ration by  his  detection,  goadeo*  by  poverty  and  threatening  creditors,  and  maddened  by 
the  cool  contempt  of  Alice  ;  Wyvil  had  pressed  his  suit  more  eagerly  with  Isabella  Os- 
wald, and  had  indeed  succeeded  in  winning  her  consent,  although  her  father,  suspecting 
somewhat  the  necessities  and  addiction  to  play  of  the  young  soldier,  had  as  yet  refused 
his  permission.  The  report,  notwithstanding,  had  been  spread  abroad,  and  gained 
strength  every  day,  that  they  were  actually  betrothed,  and  that  the  wedding  would 
take  place  almost  immediately. 

Aroused  at  length  by  this  hourly-growing  rumor,  Chaloner  made  his  mind  up  fully 
to  a  task,  to  which  he  naturally  felt  the  strongest  possible  repugnance.  But  he  was 
satisfied  that  Alice,  whom  he  still  loved  with  more  than  a  brother's  love,  was  slowly 
dying,  and  that  the  only  hope  of  saving  her  lay  in  the  compassing  her  union  with  the 
man  whose  perfidy  was  slaying  her,  as  surely  as  the  mortal  sword ;  and  therefore  he 
resolved,  if  possible,  to  fathom  the  cause  of  their  alienation ;  and,  having  fathomed,  to 
strive  with  all  the  powers  of  his  mind  for  the  removal  of  those  causes.  Nothing,  per- 
haps, could  be  conceived  more  morally  heroical,  than  the  self-sacrificing  and  disinte- 
rested resolution  of  this  pure-minded,  upright  man,  to  defeat  for  ever  all  his  own  chances 
of  domestic  happiness,  and  to  bestow  the  idol  of  his  own  affections,  so  to  secure  her 
ultimate  felicity,  upon  another.  But  few  men  have  lived  in  any  age,  less  selfish,  or 
more  careful  of  the  feelings  of  all  his  fellow-creatures,  than  Henry  Chaloner ;  and  it 
would  as  easily  have  entered  his  mind  to  prefer  the  transitory  bliss  of  mortal  life  to 
the  beatitude  of  immortality,  as  to  hesitate  between  securing  his  own  happiness  or  that 
of  the  woman  he  so  truly  loved  and  honored. 

In  his  first  efforts  he  was  foiled  utterly ;  for  with  his  customary  frank  straight-for- 
wardness, he  went  one  morning  to  visit  Wyvil  in  his  lodgings,  which  he  readily  dis- 
covered ;  taking  with  him  the  pardon  he  had  procured  for  him,  which  Marmaduke  had 
never  called  to  receive.  Wyvil  received  him  courteously,  and  displayed  much  gratitude 
for  the  obligation  under  which  Chaloner  had  placed  him  ;  and,  during  a  brief  conversa- 
tion on  various  subjects  which  ensued,  continued  to  impress  his  rival  with  a  far  higher 
estimate  of  his  qualities,  both  of  heart  and  head,  than  he  had  before  entertained.  But 
when,  at  last,  Chaloner  asked  him  plainly  whether  he  had  been  misinformed  concerning 
the  fact,  that  there  existed  an  engagement  between  him  and  Mistress  Alice  Selby,  ho 


170  MARMADtTKE     WYVIL; 

replied  instantly,  with  a  grave  and  somewhat  altered  air,  but  not  without  a  show  of  frank, 
ness :  "  Indeed,  General  Chaloner,  that  is  a  question  which,  to  any  person  but  yourself, 
I  should  decline  to  answer ;  even  if  I  did  not  look  on  it  as  a  rudeness — but,  taking  it 
into  consideration  that  you  have  lately  done  me  no  small  favor,  and  that  you  are  a  near 
connection  of  a  lady  to  whom  it  is  owing  altogether  that  I  am  alive  at  this  moment  to 
acknowledge  all  her  excellence,  I  shall  not  hesitate  to  reply  to  you  frankly.  You  werefc 
not  misinformed,  that  such  an  engagement  did  once  exist ;  but  if  you  were  told  that  it 
does  so  at  present,  you  were  assuredly  deceived ;  for  it  was  annulled  some  time  ago, 
by  the  lady's  own  act.  More  than  this,  you  cannot,  I  think,  ask  of  me  to  declare." 

"  Not  under  ordinary  cases,"  answered  Chaloner,  after  a  moment's  thought,  "  could  I 
do  so — nor,  I  admit,  can  I  demand  it  of  you  now ;  but  you  must  allow  me  to  point  out 
two  or  three  reasons,  why  I  may  ask  some  further  information.  In  the  first  place,  with 
the  exception  of  her  father,  I  am  her  nearest  blood  relation — I  may  say  her  only  one — 
and  he,  as  you  know,  from  age  and  infirmities,  and  from  his  own  peculiar  habits,  is 
hardly  capable  of  her  guardianship.  In  the  second  place,  I  know  that  she  did  love  you 
very  deeply  ;  and  I  am  well  assured,  that  even  now  she  has  not  lost  that  sentiment.  I 
cannot,  therefore,  but  regret  deeply  this  alienation ;  and  I  am  very  anxious  to  ascertain 
the  cause,  in  order  that,  if  possible,  I  may  remove  all  misunderstanding  between  two 
persons,  one  of  whom  I  love  very  dearly,  and  the  other  I  am  disposed  to  think  well  of, 
and  befriend  so  far  as  lies  in  my  power.  Therefore  I  am  frank  with  you,  and  request 
you  to  afford  me  any  insight  into  this  perplexed  matter,  which  you  can  do  with  honor." 

"  You  push  me  hard,"  replied  Wyvil,  rather  warmly — "  too  hard,  I  think,  General 
Chaloner.  Most  men  would  hesitate  to  admit  at  all,  that  they  had  been  rejected  suitors 
of  any  lady,  how  beautiful  soever.  But  this,  it  seems,  is  not  enough  for  you — and  you 
expect  me  to  disclose  to  you  circumstances  of  the  most  private  nature ;  and  to  explain 
things,  which,  for  aught  you  know,  may  depend  on  mere  womanish  caprice — " 

"  Do  you  mean,  sir,"  Chaloner  sternly  interrupted  him,  "  to  cast  the  shadow  of  a 
shade  upon  my  cousin's  reputation  ?  Do  you  mean  to  accuse  her  of  what  you  choose 
to  call  mere  womanish  caprice,  but  the  right  name  of  which  is  base  unwomanly  dis- 
honesty and  faithlessness  ?  or  did  I  misapprehend  you  ?" 

"  Again !  again !"  Wyvil  answered,  very  haughtily,  and  something  with  the  air  of  one 
not  indisposed  to  seek  a  quarrel.  "  What  if  I  did  mean  so  ?  I  am  not  to  be  questioned 
as  to  my  terms,  particularly  when  such  terms  are  given  in  answer  to  a  question  of  your 
own,  which,  give  me  leave  to  say,  was  neither  warranted  by  courtesy,  nor  by  the  length 
pr  intimacy  of  our  acquaintance  !  I  am  not  in  the  least  accountable  to  you,  sir ;  and 
if  I  should  refuse  to  reply  altogether,  I  should  but  do  rightly.  But  I  do  not  refuse,"  he 
added — for  a  deep  sense  of  the  baseness  of  his  conduct  came  across  him,  and  he  felt 
that  he  could  not  add  to  his  villainy  the  guilt  of  laying  any  imputation  on  the  faith  of 
one  whom  he  k^ew  to  be  all  purity  and  truth — "  no !  I  do  not  refuse — for  I  esteem 
the  lady's  character,  and  honor  her  too  highly,  to  wish  to  cast  the  slightest  blame  on 
ner.  Besides,  I  could  not  do  so  truly ;  for  she  is  not  in  any  way  to  blame,  unless  it  be 
in  undervaluing  the  love  and  devotion  of  a  person  who  was  once  most  sincerely  attached 
to  her." 

"  ONCE  !"  replied  Chaloner — "then  I  am  to  understand  that  you  are  so  no  longer?" 

"  You  are  to  understand,  sir,  precisely  whatsoever  it  pleases  you ;  for,  by  heaven !  I 
will  be  plagued  no  farther !  or,  I  might  say,  insulted !  Another  question  I  shall  look 
upon  as  a  direct  affront !  On  other  topics  I  shall  ever  be  willing  to  converse  with 
General  Chaloner ;  but,  upon  this,  let  it  be  understood  we  speak  no  more." 

Beyond  this,  of  course,  Henry  could  not  urge  him;  and  he  almost  immediately 
departed,  saying  to  himself,  "  Ay,  ay !  he  has  behaved  ill  to  her  in  some  way  or 
other,  and  would  not  now  be  sorry  to  undo  the  Gordian  knot,  like  Alexander,  with  the 
sword ;  but  how  can  he  so  have  injured  her,  as  to  have  made  her  so  determined  in  her 
wrath  against  him?" 

To  apply  to  the  aged  father,  who  now  appeared  to  be  more  broken  down  than  ever, 
both  in  spirits  and  in  perception  of  external  things,' would  have  been  worse  than  useless ; 


OR,     THE     MAID'S    HEVENGE,  171 

and  therefore,  as  a  last  resort,  he  once  more  went  to  Alice,  and  with  the  greatest  ten- 
derness and  caution  approached  the  delicate  subject,  and  with  an  air  so  kind  and  so 
considerate,  that  she  felt  no  shock  to  her  senses — torn  as  they  had  been,  and  wounded 
by  the  discovery  she  had  made  of  that  man's  complete  worthlessness,  on  whom  she 
had  set  all  her  hopes. 

"  Henry,"  she  said  deliberately,  "  I  cannot  tell  you — I  cannot  tell  any  person  all — but 
this  much  I  can  say,  in  justice  both  to  myself  and  Wyvil.  He  is  not  so  to  blame,  as  you 
imagine  1  He  made  no  pledge  to  me,  which  he  was  not  ready — nay,  eager  to  redeem 
He  would,  I  have  no  doubt  or  question,  be  more  delighted  than  words  can  express, 
if  I  would  recall  him  to  my  feet  to-morrow.  But,  although,  I  regret  to  say  it,  I  love 
him  still,  and  shall  love  him  to  the  last ;  I  would  not  be  his  wife — no  !  not  to  compass 
everything  of  happiness  that  gratified  love  could  afford  !  I  would  not !  If  I  would,  I 
could  do  so  to-morrow.  Him  I  neither  blame  nor  acquit — if  he  have  wronged  me,  in 
his  own  heart  and  conscience  lives  my  avenger  !  If  I  do  him  injustice  in  my  thoughts, 
I  will  do  him  none  with  my  tongue  ;  and,  sure  I  am,  I  shall  find  pardon  for  all  the  evil 
I  have  ever  thought  or  done  to  him,  both  here  and  hereafter!" 

"  The  evil  you  have  done  !  the  evil  1"  exclaimed  Chaloner ;  "  you,  who  have  never 
wronged  a  worm  !  you,  whose  life  has  been  but  one  scene  of  kindnesses,  and  charities, 
toward  all  men  !  you,  who  preserved  his  life  at  peril  of  your  own — sheltered  him,  when 
his  own  next  of  kin  would  have  abandoned  or  betrayed  him  I  you,  whom  his  treachery 
— for  I  cannot  be  hoodwinked  or  deceived — is  hourly  killing  !" 

"  Peace  !  Henry,  peace  1"  replied  the  sweet  girl ;  "  you,  who  are  so  calm  ever,  and 
so  gentle,  must  not  be  rash  now,  or  excited !  We  must  not  talk  of  this  again  ;  and,  I 
beseech  you,  do  not  you  speak  of  it,  or  lay  aught  to  his  charge,  or  seek  to  punish  any 
imagined  faults.  This  I  entreat  of  you,  as,  perhaps,  the  last  prayer  of  one  whom  you 
love,  and  who  would,  if  she  could,  have  given  you  love  for  love.  But  hearts  are  stub- 
born things,  dear  Henry,  and  deceitful.  I  could  not  love,  whom  I  esteem  and  honor 
above  all  men — I  could  not  honor  whom  I  love  the  best,  I  say  not  of  all  men,  but 
of  all  beings,  except  my  God  and  my  Redeemer.  I  love  him  still,  and  I  cannot  but 
love  him,  although  I  may  have  little  cause — but  Alice  Selby  names  not  whom  she  may 
not  esteem  and  honor — nor  never,  while  she  lives,  will  sacrifice  one  jot  of  principle,  to 
a  whole  world  of  passion  !  The  struggle  may — will — for  I  feel  that  I  am  already  within 
the  shadows  that  float  over  the  dark  vale  of  death — will  be  too  much  for  this  weak 
frame.  The  seeds  of  hereditary  disease,  latent  till  now,  but  still  existing  at  the  core, 
are  springing  into  weeds  baneful  to  human  life — a  few  more  weeks,  perchance  a  few 
more  days,  and  this  corruptible  will  be  with  the  worm,  its  sister  !  this  incorruptible  with 
its  Creator  !  Yet,  Henry  Chaloner,  mourn  not  for  me,  when  I  shall  have  gone  hence. 
My  life  has  been,  it  is  true,  but  a  brief  one — but  oh  !  how  calm  and  happy !  Except  this 
one  short  storm,  it  has  been  like  one  summer's  day  of  breathless  innocent  delight.  I 
have  lived  very  happily — I  have  no  consciousness  of  any  very  flagrant  wrong — I  live 
in  all  humility  and  knowledge  of  my  own  unworthiness,  yet  in  all  confidence  in  the 
illimitable  mercies  of  my  Judge  and  Saviour.  I  shall  die  in  tranquil  hope,  fearless  and 
calm,  and  go,  I  trust,  unto  ray  God  rejoicing  !" 

"  Most  happy,  and  most  holy !"  answered  Chaloner,  amid  his  tears,  for  the  sweet 
resignation  of  the  dear  dying  girl  had  called  forth  from  their  springs  the  hot  tears  of  the 
self-restrained  and  philosophic  man.  "  God  grant,  that  I  too  may  so  meet  his  summons 
— and  God  forbid  that  I,  by  word  or  deed,  or  thought  or  sign,  or  motion,  should  recall 
one  embittering  thought  into  a  spirit,  from  which  the  bitterness  of  life  and  death  would 
seem  already  to  have  passed  away.  Trust  me,  dear  Alice." 

"  I  do  indeed,"  she  said ;  "  most  confidently  I  do  trust  you.  But  let  us  speak  of  this 
a  little  further.  I  know  and  feel  that  I  am  dying ;  I  know  and  feel,  as  surely  as  that 
we  are  speaking  here  together,  that  I  shall  no  more  see  my  country — no  more  tread  the 
free  soil  of  glorious  England— no  more  revisit  the  dear  scenes  of  my  childhood — the 
cradle  of  my  happy  infancy  !  The  leaves  that  are  now  rustling  on  those  sere  boughs, 
will  not  have  fallen  before  I  shall  have  departed  to  the  long  last  home  of  mortals.  When. 


172  MARMADTTKE 

I — and  he,  who  will  not  long  survive  me — shall  have  gone  hence,  our  race,  our  very 
name,  will  be  ended ;  and  you,  dear  Henry,  will  succeed  to  our  inheritance  and  dwell, 
ing-place.  I  need  not  say  to  you,  be  kind  to  the  old  man  ;  I  need  not  say,  cherish  my 
old  pensioners — watch  over  those  who  will  then  have  lost  their  only  earthly  friends  and 
supporters.  These  things  I  need  not  ask,  knowing,  right  certainly,  that  unasked  you 
will  do  them.  But  there  are  two  things  that  I  would  fain  request ;  first,  Henry — it  is 
in  truth  a  vain  and  foolish  wish,  but  yet  it  is  heart-fixed,  and  daily  it  grows  stronger  as 
my  term  draws  more  nigh — I  would,  when  all  is  over,  lie  in  my  native  land.  There  is 
in  the  church-yard  at  Woolverton,  a  large  and  lovely  linden,  covering  many  a  yard  with 
the  canopy  of  its  umbrageous  foliage,  and  under  it  a  little  grassy  knoll,  where  many  a 
day  I  have  sat  when  I  was  a  merry  careless  child  ;  and  even  then  I  used  to  think  it 
would  be  sweet  to  lie  in  that  pleasant  spot.  Here,  Henry,  if  it  can  be  accomplished, 
I  would  wish  my  bones  to  rest.  My  second  prayer  is,  though  perhaps  more  difficult, 
less  whimsical,  and  has  a  reason  for  its  base.  It  is,  that  you  will  live  some  portion  of 
each  year  at  Woolverton,  that  you  may  learn  to  know  the  tenantry  and  lowly  neighbors, 
who  have  been  wont  in  our  day  to  look  up  to  their  landlords  as  to  trusted  and  familiar 
friends.  I  do  not  ask  you  to  make  any  promise  ;  I  do  not  wish  to  bind  or  fetter  you  at 
all ;  but  telling  you  what  I  desire,  I  am  quite  sure  that  you  will  do  it,  if  it  be  right  and 
compatible  with  graver  duties,  and  if  it  be  not,  then  would  I  not  have  it  done  at  all. 
And  now  that  we  have  finished  this  unpleasant  topic,  let  it  be  finished  altogether,  and 
for  ever ;  let  us  no  more  think  or  speak  of  it,  but  talk  of  pleasanter  and  gayer  matters. 
I  would  not  have  my  last  days  spent  in  sadness  or  repining  ;  nor  the  last  thoughts  of 
me  connected,  in  the  minds  of  those  I  love,  with  dark  and  gloomy  images.  So  tell  me, 
now,  when  do  you  think  of  departing  for  the  Hague  ?" 

"  Oh,  not  for  some  time,  Alice,"  he  replied.  "  I  have  to  wait  instructions,  and  re- 
ceive answers  to  the  dispatches  which  I  have  sent  home."  And  for  some  time  the 
conversation  flowed  on,  Madame  de  Gondi  having  come  in,  turning  on  topics  of  general 
and  varied  interest ;  till  just  as  Chaloner  was  about  to  depart,  and  had  actually  taken 
up  his  hat,  the  sound  of  a  carriage  was  heard  entering  the  porte  cockere,  and  in  a  mo- 
ment the  door  was  thrown  open  by  a  servant,  who,  to  the  surprise  of  all  parties,  an- 
nounced Mademoiselle  Oswald.  Though  wondering  not  a  little  what  had  procured  for 
her  the  honor  of  this  visit,  Madame  de  Gondi  advanced  courteously  to  meet  her,  wel- 
coming her  with  a  polished  ease  peculiar  to  herself. 

"  You  must  think  me  exceedingly  odd,  not  to  say  impertinent,"  she  began,  as  if 
aware  that  her  coming  needed  some  explanation  ;  "  but  the  truth  is,  that  I  heard  you 
had  a  countrywoman  of  my  own  living  with  you  ;  and  I  consider  it  a  sort  of  duty  among 
English  ladies  to  seek  out  one  another  when  abroad,  and  offer  any  little  courtesies  in 
their  power.  And  so,  being  the  older  resident  in  Paris,  and  almost  an  habitue,  I  took 
the  liberty  to  call,  in  the  hope  to  gain  Mistress  Selby's  friendship.  There,  the  whole 
secret's  out  now !  I  always  do  things  in  my  own  way — and  do  whatever  I  choose,  too," 
she  added,  tossing  back  the  luxuriant  ringlets  which  had  fallen  forward  over  her  face, 
with  a  saucy  air ;  "  and  in  the  present  case  I  choose,  Mistress  Alice  Selby,  that  we 
should  become  great  friends  instantly  and  without  ceremony."  . 

Abrupt  and  even  rough  as  was  Isabella  Oswald^s  manner,  there  was  yet  a  sort  of 
gay  and  open  frankness,  a  directness  of  purpose,  and  an  apparent  singleness  of  heart, 
that,  coupled  to  her  exceeding  beauty,  and  to  the  peculiar  richness  of  her  silvery  voice, 
was  anything  rather  than  unattractive.  It  had,  perhaps,  scarcely  so  powerful  an  effect 
on  women  as  on  the  other  sex,  who  were  almost  always  singularly  struck  and  fascinated 
by  her  manner ;  but  it  was  still  far  from  lacking  its  due  weight.  Alice,  particularly 
feminine  herself  and  gentle,  was  very  much  moved  by  an  air  so  exactly  the  reverse  of 
her  own ;  and  although  she  by  no  means  admired  that  dashing  independence,  which 
she  considered,  and  considered  justly,  to  be  no  attribute  of  woman,  she  saw  and  felt  at 
once,  that  her  great  beauty,  with  its  bold  and  striking  style,  and  her  wild,  fearless  man- 
ners,  were  just  the  thing  to  seize  on  a  mind  like  Wyvil's,  which  had,  perhaps,  less  of 
resolute  firmness,  than  of  any  other  quality  needful  to  give  it  tone  and  power.  She 


OR,     THE     MAID'S     REVENGE.  173 

thought,  moreover,  that  her  visitor  was  a  person  whose  impulses,  whether  of  good  or 
evil,  were  so  perceptible  and  unconcealed,  and  whose  fearlessness  led  to  so  great  £ 
degree  of  candor  and  simplicity,  that  she  could  not  be,  on  the  whole,  other  than  au 
amiable  and  estimable  woman.  She  replied,  therefore,  not  only  courteously,  but  even 
warmly  ;  expressed  her  sense  of  obligation  at  the  civility,  which  had  produced  this 
visit  to  a  stranger,  said  that  she  had  no  doubt  they  should  be  very  great  friends,  and 
remarked  with  a  smile  upon  their  former  meeting  at  the  gates  of  Paris.  This  led  to  some 
mention  of  Major  Wyvil ;  and  Alice,  ever  remarkable  for  the  strength  and  coolness  of 
her  resolution,  spoke  of  her  former  lover  with  an  air  so  entirely  calm  and  unembar- 
lassed,  as  would  have  rendered  it  impossible  for  any  stranger  to  suspect  that  a  feeling 
warmer  than  mere  friendship  ever  had  existed ;  if  even  that  were  not  more  than  was 
warranted  by  her  manner.  Meantime  Ghaloner  took  his  leave — and  laughing  merrily, 
and  jesting  in  a  wild  light-hearted  style  about  all  sorts  of  things,  now  rattling  on  with 
some  strange,  witty  nonsense  ;  now  uttering  deeper  thoughts  and  sentiments  more 
powerful  than  than  one  would  have  expected  her  to  entertain,  Isabella  still  remained  ; 
and  Alice,  half-amused,  half-tired,  but  with  a  sad  and  burning  heart,  was  compelled  to 
entertain  her,  wondering  how  long  this  strange  interview  would  continue.  At  length, 
Madame  de  Gondi  was  summoned  out  of  the  apartment  on  business  of  a  pressing 
nature  ;  and  then,  starting  up  from  her  chair,  Isabella  crossed  the  room  to  the  sofa  on 
which  Alice  sat,  exclaiming : 

"  Oh  !  I  am  very  glad  that  she  has  gone  away,  for  now  I  can  tell  you  what  I  want. 
I  was  afraid  she  would  not  have  gone  at  all.  You  think  me,  I  see,  a  strange  bold  girl, 
and  are,  I  fancy,  half  afraid  of  me  ;  and  I  don't  wonder  at  it.  I  never  had  a  mother,  that 
is  within  my  recollection ;  and  I  have  been  a  spoiled  child  all  my  life,  and  have  been 
rambling  about  always  among  camps  and  garrisons,  and  battle-fields,  and  doing  just  what 
suited  me,  till  I  have  grown  up  to  be  what  I  am.  But,  I  assure  you,  I  am  not  so  bad 
as  you  think  me  !  My  manner  is  the  worst  part  of  me,  indeed  ;  and  you  will  find  that 
if  I  am  wild,  and  free  and  fearless,  I  am  true  and  honest.  I  would  not  tell  a  lie  to  be 
the  queen  of  all  France  !  and  the  truth  is,  that  I  have  come  to  see  you  because  1  want 
to  be  resolved  of  something,  of  which  nobody  can  resolve  me  but  yourself.  So  I  shall 
go  to  the  point  at  once — this  Major  Wyvil,  whom  you  know  so  well,  and  whom  you 
saved,  I  understand,  from  death,  by  your  presence  of  mind  and  courage — who  could 
have  thought  that  so  quiet  and  gentle  a  little  thing  as  you  could  be  so  brave  ?  This 
Major  Wyvil,  I  say,  swears  that  he  loves  me  very  dearly ;  and  as  I  love  him  very  well 
— that  is  to  say,  a  great  deal  more  than  I  ever  loved  anything;  more  than  my  beautiful 
black  horse  Roland,  and  twenty  times  as  much  as  my  dear  Persian  grayhound,  I  think 
it  quite  probable  we  shall  be  married  some  day.  Now,  I  cannot  exactly  tell  you  why 
it  is,  but  I  have  taken  it  into  my  head  that  you  and  he  were  going  to  be  married  once, 
and  that  he  has  used  you  ill — and  me,  too,  if  I  am  right ;  and  I  would  sooner  marry  old 
Monsieur  de  Grandpre,  who  is  the  ugliest  man  in  all  France,  or  what  is  still  worse, 
remain  all  my  life  an  old  maid,  than  take  a  man  on  whom  another  woman  had  a  claim 
of  honor.  So  I  came  straight  to  you  to  ask  you  all  about  it." 

It  cannot  be  denied,  that  this  speech  tried  poor  Alice  deeply — tried  her  in  many 
ways.  It  probed  her  own  deep  love-wound  to  the  very  quick — it  sorely  shook  the  con- 
stancy  and  endurance  of  her  principles ;  but  so  deep  was  the  root  of  that  fixed  principle, 
that  it  resisted  the  assault,  and  yielded  not  a  whit  to  the  fierce  passionate  tempest  that 
was  awakened  for  a  moment  in  that  calm  breast.  She  blushed  very  deeply,  and  paused 
a  little  while  to  frame  her  reply  before  she  uttered  it — for  in  truth,  she  found  it  no  easy 
matter  to  answer  as  she  would.  Her  firm  decision,  never  herself  to  countenance  him  as 
a  lover ;  her  strong  and  still  enduring  love  for  him,  and  her  desire  to  make  him  happy 
in  his  own  way,  united  to  render  her  willing  to  promote  his  union  with  her  rival — so 
perfectly  pure  and  disinterested  was  her  passion  for  this  unworthy  object — while,  at  the 
same  time,  her  native  truthfulness  made  it  impossible  for  her  to  deceive  even  by'mipli- 
cation.  She  was,  however,  fully  impressed  with  the  idea,  that  such  an  union  would  be 
well  for  both — that  it  would  reclaim,  or  rather  fix.  the  vacillating  character  of  Wyvil, 


174  MARMADUKE     WYVIL; 

and  satisfy  the  ardent  love  which,  she  could  readily  perceive,  existed  in  the  bosom  of 
this  high-souled,  though  wild  and  erratic  being — and  she  began  to  think  that  really  a 
girl  of  Isabella's  marked  and  masculine  decision  was  better  suited  than  herself  to  insure 
the  happiness  of  a  man,  whose  greatest  fault  appeared  to  be  the  want  of  a  resolute 
and  energetic  will.  She  paused,  therefore,  a  moment  or  two  before  she  answered, 
and  then  said — 

"  I  would  not  reply  to  your  question  too  suddenly,  for  I  must  justify  the  frank  and 
open  confidence  which  you  have  placed  in  me — and  for  the  world  I  would  not  deceive 
you.  To  be  frank,  then,  we  were  once  engaged ;  and  that  engagement  might  have 
been  binding  still,  but  that  I,  of  my  own  will,  annulled  it.  I  cannot,  therefore,  accuse 
him  of  any  breach  of  faith  toward  me — for  he  was  not  willing  only,  but  actually  anxious, 
to  make  good  his  promise.  I  had,  however,  my  own  views  on  the  subject,  and  re- 
jected him." 

"  Rejected  him  !•"  exclaimed  Isabella,  staring  out  of  her  great  black  eyes  in  astonish- 
ment,  not  all  unmixed  with  indignation.  "  Rejected  Marmaduke  Wyvil !" 

"  I  did,  indeed,"  Alice  replied,  with  a  sad  smile  ;  "does  that  seem  so  strange  to  you? " 

"  It  does — it  does  !"  answered  Isabella,  with  a  sad  smile — "  it  does  seem  strange  to 
me,  that  any  woman  should  reject  him — so  brave  !  so  noble  !  and  so  handsome  !  Oh  1 
had  you  seen  him,  as  I  have,  rushing  into  the  deadly  fray,  as  if  he  were  hurrying  to  a 
banquet — heard  his  clear  voice  pealing  above  the  din  of  battle — you  never,  never  could 
have  done  so !  Why,  he  is  fit  to  be  the  husband  of  the  stateliest  queen  that  wears  a 
crown  or  wields  a  sceptre  !" 

"  I  doubt  not  that  you  think  so,"  answered  Alice.  "  Perhaps  I  once  thought  so  my- 
self— perhaps  I  think  so,  even  now ;  but  I  do  not  think  him  fit  to^be  the  husband  of 
Alice  Selby ;  or  Alice  Selby  to  be  the  wife  of  him." 

"  You  are  playing  at  enigmas  with  me — you  are  making  game  of  me,"  said  Isabella. 
"  I  did  not  look  for  this  from  you !" 

"  Indeed.  I  am  not — I  would  not  mislead  you  unintentionally  for  half  a  hemisphere  ; 
much  less  would  I  jest  with  you,  on  so  grave  a  subject.  I  say  to  you  simply  the  truth, 
when  I  say  that  Major  Wyvil  has  never  broken  any  promise  to  me — for  he  has  never 
made  me  one  which  he  would  not  have  performed,  had  I  been  willing ;  and  further,  I 
have  no  claim  on  him  whatsoever,  whether  in  law  or  honor ;  and  further  yet,  I  should 
be  more  glad  to  learn,  than  I  think  I  ever  shall  be,  that  you  have  become  his  wife ! 
Upon  my  word !  and  that  is  what  I  do  not,  I  hope,  say  lightly — I  think  that  you  are 
suited  excellently  well  to  one  another,  and  that  his  character  will  take  a  tone  from  your 
decision ;  and,  once  more,  upon  my  honor !  I  know  no  cause  why  you  should  not  wed 
him — our  views  of  these  things,  as  are  our  characters,  are  very  different." 

"  He  did  not,  then,  break  his  word  to  you  ?"  asked  Isabella. 

"  He  did  not !"  Alice  answered,  very  firmly  ;  "  so  far  from  that,  the  first  time,  after  he 
plighted  me  his  word,  he  was  exceeding  urgent  on  the  subject ;  and,  as  I  told  you,  even 
now  the  weight  of  this  breach  of  contract  rests  upon  my  head  only.  Now  are  you 
satisfied  ?" 

"Not  quite,"  replied  Isabella.  "No!  I  am  not  quite  satisfied.  Why  did  you  reject 
him  ?  and  when  was  it  ?  I  must  know  all  about  it." 

'*  Not  from  me  !  I  have  informed  you  of  all  that  I  can  reveal  honorably.  My  rea- 
sons for  rejecting  him  are  between  myself,  him,  and  my  God !  They  might  have 
arisen — perhaps  they  may  have — from  false  views  or  prejudices ;  and  therefore  I  have 
no  right  at  all  to  influence  you  by  telling  them.  I  hold  the  confidence  of  love  matters 
between  man  and  woman  to  be  the  holiest  and  most  binding  that  exists  on  earth ;  and 
I  think  that  no  true  girl  ever  discloses  the  overture  which  she  has  been  forced  to  reject, 
even  to  mother,  sister,  husband,  unless  there  be  some  cause,  such  as  this  present,  which 
makes  it,  not  justifiable  only,  but  right,  for  all  parties  to  declare  it.  You  must  excuse 
me,  therefore,  if  I  decline  to  say  anything  further.  This  only  I  can  add  more — he  would 
have  kept  his  word  to  me,  but  I  would  hear  him  not." 

"  But  he  told  me,"  answered  Isabella,  very  quickly,  "  that  he  had  never  known  or 
even  thought  of  you — that  was  not  true  I" 


OR,     THE     MAID'S     REVENGE.  175 

"  No  !  it  was  not — but  I  presume  he  was  afraid  to  tell  you  that  he  had  ever  loved 
before,  lest  you  should  esteem  that  a  reason  for  discarding  him  ;  for  many  girls  are 
so  foolish,  Isabella,  as  not  to  be  satisfied  with  knowing  that  a  man  loves  them  truly — 
but  they  must  needs  insist  on  being  told  that  they  are  the  first  and  only  object  he  has 
ever  loved  at  all — which,  if  he  be  over  eighteen  years  and  not  an  idiot,  or  as  cold  as 
snow,  can  hardly  be  true  anywise.  I  am  quite  sure,  that  he  loves  you  truly  now ;  and 
I  have  no  doubt  in  my  mind  that  he  will  prove  a  very  true  and  loving  lord.  So  trust 
me,  the  best  thing  you  can  do  is  just  to  marry  him  directly — that  is  to  say,  if  your 
family  consent." 

"  Family  indeed  !"  answered  Isabella  ;  "  what  have  my  family  to  do  with  it  ?  My 
great  grandmother  or  my  tenth  cousin  are  not  going  to  marry  the  man,  but  I.  But  I 
suppose  it  is  my  father  that  you  mean — and  I  am  not  at  all  sure  that  he  will  consent ; 
for  he  expects  that  my  husband  should  be  rich,  I  fancy — though  what  it  signifies,  when 
we  have  such  quantities  of  money,  I  cannot  guess ;  and  Marmaduke,  poor  fellow,  haa 
not  a  franc  beyond  his  pay." 

"Ah !  is  it  so  ?"  asked  Alice  ;  "  well,  if  it  be  so,  and  you  should  really  find  any  diffi- 
culty on  that  score,  I  must  insist  that  you  let  me  know  it.  I  may — nay,  I  can  almost 
say — I  shall  be  able  to  avert  that,  if  it  be  the  sole  objection  !" 

"  You  !  you  !"  exclaimed  Isabella,  very  much  astonished — "you  are  able  to  avert  it! 
How  can  that  be?  and  will  you,  if  you  can  ?" 

"  I  cannot  tell  you  how,"  said  Alice  Selby,  "  but  be  sure  that,  if  I  can,  I  will — and 
gladly  !  gladly  !  Does  that  satisfy  you  ?" 

"  Indeed  it  does,  dear  lady,"  replied  the  other,  rising  as  she  spoke,  to  go  ;  "I  should 
be  bitterly  ungrateful  else — and  I  cannot  well  tell  you  how  sensible  I  am  of  all  your 
goodness,  and  how  sincerely  grateful  I  shall  be  to  you  for  ever !  I  am  not  very  ready 
at  professions — but,  as  I  told  you  before,  I  am  honest.  No,  no  ;  dear  Alice — may  I 
not  call  you  Alice  ?  you  must  let  me  kiss  that  pale  cheek  of  yours — we  must  be  friends 
hereafter.  Now  I  will  say  farewell !  Excuse  me  to  Madame  de  Gondi." 


CHAPTER    XXXI. 

THE  afternoon  of  that  day  passed  away  very  quietly;  no  other  visitors  arrived,  and 
the  evening  meal  was  served  to  Madame  de  Gondi,  Alice,  and  her  old  father,  only ; 
who  was  far  less  abstracted  than  his  wont,  as  indeed  he  had  been  ever  since  his  arrival 
in  Paris,  observing  the  occurrences  that  were  going  on  about  him,  and  appearing  at 
times  even  to  take  an  interest  in  them.  They  had  been  conversing  for  some  hours,  as 
gayly  as  it  was  possible  for  persons  to  do,  all  three  of  whom  had  something  heavy  at 
the  heart,  and  each  one  something  to  conceal  or  keep  back  from  the  others  ;  when  sud- 
denly, without  the  least  apparent  cause  or  excitement,  Alice  was  seized  with  another 
of  those  terrible  fainting  fits,  which  had  so  much  alarmed  her  friends  on  their  occurrence 
twice  before  ;  and  remained  longer  under  its  influence,  and  continued  weakness,  and 
more  indisposed  after  it  had  passed,  than  she  had  done  in  either  of  the  preceding  cases. 
Her  cousin,  as  usual,  had  her  removed  to  her  own  chamber,  and  did  all  that  personal 
kindness  and  attention  could  effect,  to  hasten  her  recovery ;  but  it  was  very  much  to 
her  astonishment  that,  on  her  return  to  the  saloon,  she  found  the  old  man  walking  up 
and  down  the  room  with  long  and  steady  steps,  holding  a  billet,  which  he  had  written, 
in  his  hand,  and  seeming  to  expect  the  presence  of  a  servant,  who  had  probably  been 
summoned. 

"  My  dear  M..dame  de  Gondi,"  said  the  old  scholar,  as  she  entered,  "we  never  can 
thank  you  sufficiently  for  your  great  kindness — but  you  can  add  even  to  the  vastness  of 
that  debt  by  being  quite  frank  with  me.  My  sweet  child — my  own  Alice  !  think  you 
not  that  she  is  fearfully — dangerously  ill  ?" 

"  Indeed  !  indeed  !  I  fear  so — and  I  have  thought  it  right  to  send  over  now  for  old 
Monsieur  Pallie,  the  best  esteemed  of  all  our  leeches." 


176  MA ft MA DUKE 

"Ay  !"  replied  Selby,  gravely,  with  a  half-doubtful  shake  of  his  thin  locks — "  ay ! 
if  It  be  not  all  too  late — if  it  have  not  its  root  deeper.  Her  mother  faded  even  thus — 
faded  and  fleeted  out  of  sight ;  like  a  brief  meteor,  before  one  has  even  time  to  fear 
that  jt  is  passing.  Think  you  not  that  her  heart — her  affections^  I  should  say — have 
much  to  do  with  this  ?  Has  she  not  told  you  of  her  love  for  Captain  Wyvil,  and  their 
troth  plighting  ?" 

"  She  has  indeed,"  answered  Henriette,  not  without  many  a  tear — "  she  has  indeed 
— and  my  fears  point  too  truly,  even  as  yours  do.  You  know,  I  presume,  that  she  has 
met  this  gentleman,  that  he  has  visited  her  even  here,  and  that  but  yesterday  she  de- 
clined, as  she  told  me,  positively  and  for  ever  the  completion  of  that  contract  ?" 

"  I  did  not — no,  I  did  not ;"  said  the  old  man.  "Are  you  quite  sure  ?  declined  ?  is 
it  possible  that  she  declined  ?  That  is  exceeding  strange,  for  I  am  almost  sure  that  she 
still  loves  him." 

"  Most  certainly  she  does  so,"  answered  Henriette,  "  but  she  will  never  marry  him ; 
and  I  am  afraid  that  it  is  the  conflict  between  principle  and  passion,  although  the  first  has 
prevailed  grandly  and  will  maintain  its  victory — her  health,  nay !  her  life  itself,  are 
endangered ;"  and  without  any  further  hesitancy,  she  told  him  everything  that  had 
occurred  since  their  arrival  in  Paris — what  had  taken  place  in  the  garden  of  the  Tuil- 
eries — what  at  the  ball  in  the  palace — and  what  in  the  first  interview  between  Alice 
and  Marmaduke,  so  far  as  she  had  informed  her. 

"Oh!  villain!  villain!"  exclaimed  the  old  man  bitterly — "  weak,  vacillating  knave 
and  villain  !  and  fool  yet  more  than  either !  Had  she  but  had  a  brother,  and  this  had 
never  happened,  or  had  been  bitterly  avenged  !  But  I — I — God  be  gracious  to  me !  I 
have  not  wisdom  to  deal  with  the  veriest  fool  in  worldly  craft — nor  strength  to  be 
avenged  upon  a  froward  child !"  and  with  the  words  he  flung  himself  into  a  chair,  and 
burst  into  an  agony  of  tears  so  terribly  convulsive,  sobbing  and  choking  so  with  the 
effects  of  anguish  and  rage  blended,  and  that  in  their  most  appalling  crisis,  that  Hen- 
riette actually  dreaded  for  the  endurance  of  his  reason,  if  not  of  his  life  ;  yet  dared  not 
call  a  witness  to  break  in  upon  the  sacred  and  most  solemn  privacy  of  that  paternal 
passion.  As  suddenly,  however,  as  it-had  broken  out,  the  transport  of  his  grief  subsided. 
"  Pardon  me,"  he  said,  slowly  and  even  calmly — "  you  will  pardon  me — she  is  my 
own,  my  only  one — the  very  image  of  her,  who  was  the  best  of  women,  and  now  is  an 
everliving  spirit  of  God's  kingdom — my  only  hope's  support  and  treasure  !  And  he  has 
slain  her — speak  not  of  consolation !  the  young  may  be  consoled,  but  not  the  old  who 
have  grown  old  in  sorrow  !  But  it  is  not  for  us  to  judge,  but  to  submit  us  to  His  judg- 
ments. We  will  not  trouble  her;  she  has  decided  wisely  now — although  she  loved 
not  wisely  but  too  well  !  Had  she  forgiven,  and  accepted  him  to  be  her  lord,  it  is  loo 
likely  that  the  vile  earthly  temper  of  his  soul  would  have  clogged  and  weighed  down  to 
earth  the  spiritual  essence  of  her  pure  and  heaven-soaring  mind.  HE  who  knows  all 
things  hath  so  ordered  this,  that  it  must  be  the  better — although  to  us  blind  worms  it 
Be,ems  the  worst  conclusion.  We  will  name  this  no  more,  but  wait,  and  watch,  and 
pray  ;  with  this  one  comfort,  that  whom  HE  chasteneth,  he  loveth." 

He  left  the  room  as  he  ceased  speaking,  but  he  retired  not  to  his  own  lonely  chamber. 
He  entered  the  still  and  sad  apartment,  where,  all  unconscious  of  her  cares  and  sorrows, 
his  lovely  child  lay  sleeping,  as  calm,  as  motionless,  and  only  not  as  cold,  as  though 
she  had  already  passed  the  portals  of  the  tomb.  He  stood  there  long,  and  gazed  in 
silence — not  a  tear  soothed  the  hot  anguish  of  his  burning  eyeballs — not  a  sigh  came 
from  his  pale  lips — he  gazed  till  he  was  satisfied  that  there  was  no  hope  left  to  him, 
turned  on  his  heel,  and  passed  with  a  step  very  slow,  but  firm,  to  his  own  bed-chambei 
— there  was  no  more  abstraction,  no  more  vacillation,  no  more  weakness,  in  the  old 
scholar's  eyes  or  manner.  Before  he  laid  him  down  to  sleep,  he  called  the  faithful  ser- 
vant who  had  followed  him  from  Woolverton,  the  oldest  and  the  most  attached  of 
his  attendants  ;  gave  him  the  letter  he  had  written,  telling  him  to  carry  it  the  first  thing 
to-morrow — that  he  whom  it  concerned  should  have  it  early — "  He  will  come  hither 
shortly  afterwards,"  he  added ;  "  wait  for  him  thera,  and  bring  him  to  me  hither  as 


quietly 


OR,     THE     MAID'S     REVENGE.  177 


as  may  be — I  wish  that  as  few  as  possible  of  this  household  know  of  it."  The 
man  read  the  superscription  with  much  ease,  bowed,  and  retired  ;  and  Selby,  after 
kneeling  long  in  fervent  and  heartfelt  communion  with  HIM,  from  whom  alone  strength 
cometh,  stretched  himself  on  his  bed,  and  sad  although  he  was  and  stricken,  slept  with 
the  undisturbed  repose  that  springs  from  a  sound  conscience. 

It  had  not  long  been  daylight  on  the  following  morning,  before  a  startling  and  stub, 
bornly-sustained  knocking  awoke  the  ancient  porter  of  the  house,  wherein  were  Mar- 
maduke's  apartments ;  and  though  the  crusty  and  ill-tempered  veteran  declared  that 
Major  Wyvil  had  scarcely  been  abed  an  hour,  and  would  not  be  seen  by  any  one  before 
noon,  the  messenger,  a  hale,  broad-shouldered,  rosy-cheeked  Englishman  of  some  forty 
years,  persisted,  with  so  much  of  the  dogged  pertinacity  of  his  Saxon  race,  that  he  made 
his  way  per  force  to  Wyvil's  antechamber,  where  he  made  such  a  din  that  Marmaduke 
was  aroused  thoroughly,  and  calling  sharply  to  his  valet,  inquired,  "  What  in  the  fiend's 
name  meant  that  racket  ?" 

"  It  is  a  billet,  sir — only  a  trifling  billet,"  answered  the  fellow ;  "  which  this  rude 
knave  in  a  green  jerkin  insists  upon  it  he  must  give  into  yoar  own  hands." 

"  Let  him  do  so  then,  Clement,"  replied  Wyvil,  "  if  it  be  only  to  get  rid  of  his  inso- 
lent din.  Your  master,  fellow,"  he  went  on,  as  the  servant  came  in,  and  delivered  the 
note,  "  should  know  more  of  gentle  courtesy,  than  to  disturb  people  in  the  night  thus." 

"  My  master,"  answered  the  hardy  yeoman,  nothing  abashed,  "  knew  more  of  gentle 
courtesy,  forty  years  before  thou  wert  in  the  cradle,  than  thou  and  all  thy  kindred — 
and  that  wilt  know,  I  warrant  me,  when  thou  hast  read  his  letter." 

And  it  would  seem,  indeed,  that  there  was  in  that  brief  epistle  some  spell  of  strange 
puissance  ;  for  though  he  tore  the  paper  open  with  an  impatient  gesture,  and  with  a 
heightened  color,  and  a  flashing  eye,  his  whole  air  altered  as  he  read  the  few  words 
which  it  contained  ;  and  he  appeared  crest-fallen  and  abashed,  when  he  again  spoke. 
"  Ha !  it  is  well,"  he  said,  though  with  a  very  visible  effort  to  maintain  his  composure. 
"  Go !  tell  thy  master,  I  will  be  with  him  presently — forthwith  !  Clement,  my  dressing 
robe — so  !  hurry  !  hurry !  death  to  thy  soul,  man  !  dos't  not  see  I  am  in  haste  ?" 

And  within  far  less  time  than  the  valet  had  ever  seen  his  master  devote  to  the  ar- 
rangement of  his  love-locks  only,  he  was  completely  dressed,  and  went  forth  unattended, 
leaving  his  household  in  strange  wonder  and  excitement,  to  which  the  perusal  of  the 
mysterious  billet — for  in  his  haste  he  left  it  on  the  coverlid — brought  no  alleviation ;  for 
it  contained  but  these  words — 

"  MARMADUKE  WYVIL, 

"  I  charge  thee  come  to  me,  on  the  very  instant. 

"  Thine,  MARK  SELBY." 

A  short  walk  through  the  quiet  streets,  which  lay  outstretched  all  silent  and  deserted 
in  the  gray  morning  twilight,  with  nothing  moving  over  their  noiseless  pavements  but 
some  poor  houseless  dog,  searching  the  kennels  for  a  thrice-gnawed  bone,  or  rarer  still, 
some  early  artizan  hastening  to  his  daily  toil,  he  reached  the  porte  cochere  of  the  Hotel 
de  Gondi ;  and,  though  anxiety,  and  something  that  was  like  a  fiery  hope,  and  much 
that  was  like  harrowing  terror,  were  busy  at  his  heart ;  it  was  still  almost  a  relief  to 
him  to  feel  that  he  was  soon  to  be  plunged  into  excitement,  even  of  a  painful  nature — 
so  terribly  reproachful  had  the  calm  coolness  of  the  June  morning  air,  and  the  unusual 
solitude  of  the  slumbering  city  seemed  to  his  guilty  and  perturbed  imagination.  Of  all 
the  numerous  and  gayly-dressed  attendants,  who  were  wont  to  fill  the  courtyard  of  that 
lordly  mansion,  no  one  was  moving,  even  in  the  porter's  lodge,  with  the  exception  of 
the  English  servant,  who  had  summoned  him  ;  and  he  stood  leaning  carelessly  against 
the  wicket,  which  alone  was  open,  whistling  the  burthen  of  some  old  border-ballad  with 
a  true  air  of  listless  independence.  As  Marmaduke  drew  near,  however,  he  made  way 
for  him  with  a  sort  of  surly  civility,  touching  his  bonnet ;  but  it  was  evident  that  he 
looked  with  no  good- will  upon  the  courtly  gallant,  and  very  probably  he  had  something 

8* 


178  MARMADTJKE     WYVILJ 

more  than  a  vague  suspicion  that  he  was  in  some  sort  connected  with  the  illness  of  his 
beloved  mistress.  He  led  the  young  cavalier  immediately  into  the  house,  though  not 
by  the  grand  entrance,  and  up  a  dark  and  narrow  staircase,  and  so  by  several  intricate 
corridors  and  passages  into  a  little  antechamber;  and  pausing  there,  the  sound  of  a 
regular  and  heavy  footstep  fell  on  the  ear  of  Wyvil,  and  then  the  deep  groan  of  a  man. 
apparently  in  acute  pain,  or  deep  affliction ;  the  next  instant,  the  servant  knocked  gently 
at  a  door,  and  a  voice  but  too  well  remembered,  cried — "Is  it  he  ?  Let  him  enter  1" 
and  ho  walked  with  a  faltering  step  and  a  fearful  eye  into  the  presence  of  Mark  Selby. 
The  old  man  said — "  It  is  well,  Charles ;  now  begone  and  wait  for  him  at  the  head  of  the 
staircase  beyond  earshot — let  no  one  come  to  us,  unless  I  ring  my  bell,  or  call  to  you 
Be  seated,  Major  Wyvil — it  is  some  time  since  we  have  met." 

"  It  is  indeed,"  said  Wyvil,  exceedingly  confused,  and  not  in  the  least  knowing  how 
to  meet  the  old  man. 

"  It  is  indeed,"  he  repeated,  with  a  bitter  sneer ;  his  voice,  though  feeble,  trembling 
not  in  the  least,  and  his  gray  eye  piercing  the  shrinking  wretch,  as  the  falcon's  overpowers 
the  craven  gaze  of  all  meaner  fowls — "  it  is  indeed  some  time,  and  I  suppose  it  might 
have  been  full  longer.  What  does  this  mean,  sir  ?  what  does  this  mean,  I  say  ?  what 
were  you  thinking  of  when  you  dared  do  this  thing?" 

"  I  know  not  what  you  mean,  Master  Selby,"  replied  Marmaduke,  rallying  all  his 
courage  ;  "  I  know  not  anything  that  I  have  done." 

"  Nor  left  undone  ?"  the  old  man  answered,  in  a  tone  so  piercing,  yet  so  stern,  that  he 
dared  not  reply  for  a  moment  or  two,  till  feeling  that  dread  gaze  still  fixed  upon  him, 
for  his  own  eyes  were  downcast,  and  no  more  could  brook  the  glance  of  the  injured 
father,  than  could  the  carrion  vulture  face  the  meridian  sun,  he  forced  himself  to  say — 

"  Nor  left  undone,  sir — for  I  would  fain  have  fulfilled  my  pledge  and  married  your 
fair  daughter,  whom  I  love  beyond  every  woman  upon  earth,  but  she  rejected  me — 
rejected  me,  as  doubtless  ypu  well  know — with  bitter  scorn  and  contumely ;  and  that  is 
what  may  not  be  borne  by  any  man  of  honor !" 

"  And  have  you — have  you  really  the  daring  to  call  yourself  a  man  of  honor  ?  Look 
you,  I  know  you — poor,  vain,  vacillating  fool — I  know  you  !  Answer  me  not,  I  say — 
answer  me  not — sit  there  till  I  rehearse  to  you  your  honorable  exploits.  Some  thirteen 
months  ago,  there  lived  in  Worcestershire  a  very  happy  aged  man — exceedingly  happy 
— for  he  was  blessed  with  as  beautiful,  and  innocent,  and  sweet,  and  good  a  child  as  ever 
lived  on  earth,  or  died  and  went  to  heaven !"  The  old  man  was  now  thoroughly  aroused, 
and  his  cheek,  thin  as  it  was  and  withered,  was  kindled  with  a  glow  of  noble  indigna- 
tion ;  and  his  voice,  though  it  quivered  with  excitement,  seemed  to  his  panick-stricken 
auditor  to  thrill,  trumpet-like,  to  his  heart's  core.  "  Thither  were  you  sent — there,  at  your 
utmost  need,  were  you  preserved  by  that  girl's  more  than  heroic  constancy  and  courage  ; 
by  that  old  man's  untimely  pity,  and  fool  confidence  !  Liar  and  traitor !  you  won  her 
innocent  heart — plighted  false  vows — escaped,  forgot,  forsworn  her!" 

"  Not  so !  not  so  !  by  heaven  and  Him  that  made  it — not  so !  I  would  have  claimed 
her  hand — would  claim  it  now,  out  of  ten  thousand,  as  I  would  prize  her  heart." 

"  Liar,  again !  Her  heart  which  thou  hast  broken — her  hand  which  thou  didst  set  aside 
as  a  thing  lighter  than  thistle-down,  and  far  less  worthy !  thou  fool  1  thou  fool !  Oh  ! 
trivial,  wretched  and  most  miserable  fool !  All  this  thou  has  done  in  the  pride  of  thine 
earthly  wisdom.  Her  didst  thou  win  in  the  mere  idleness  of  a  frivolous  and  fitful  fancy 
— didst  win  such  an  angel  as  had  been  too  high  a  boon  for  the  best  man  that  ever  trod 
the  soil  of  this  bad  world — was  fool  enough  to  forget — liar  enough  to  forswear — and 
then  traitor,  and  knave,  and  fool  enough,  all  three  in  one — to  fancy  you  could  win  her 
back  to  look  upon  a  thing  so  vile  and  vicious  I" 

"  Have  you  done  yet  ?"  exclaimed  Wyvil,  whose  spirit,  naturally  high  and  fiery,  was 

at  length  kindled,  and  aroused  beyond  all  its  self-control  by  the  reproaches  which  the 

old  man  poured  so  vehemently,  and  so  deservedly  upon  hia  head — "  have  you  done 

yet?    For  I  will  hear  no  further—" 

"Done  yet?"  cried  Selby,  even  more  fiercely  than  before,  "not  well  begun  I  Dog  I 


OR,     THE     MAID'S     REVENGE.  179 

I  will  blazon  out  your  villainy  to  the  broad  world  1  your  crime  shall  not  succeed — your 
baseness  shall  not  screen  you  !  Two  victims  you  have  slain  already  ;  the  third  I  will 
rescue  from  your  clutches.  Listen — now  listen  :  a  short  life  shall  you  drag  out  here  ! 
a  short  life  and  a  wretched  ;  scorned  and  despised  of  all  men,  abandoned  by  your  God  ! 
For  when  your  soul  shall  turn  toward  Him,  the  spirit  of  my  Alice — my  Alice,  whom  you 
have  so  foully  murdered,  shall  stand  between  you,  and  screen  the  light  of  his  forgive- 
ness, and  shut  you  out  from  mercy,  condemned— by  your  own  conscience,  the  basest 
and  the  blackest  thing  that  crawls.  And,  when  you  die,  the  very  fiends  shall  cast  you 
out  from  among  them,  too  vile  and  villainous  for  their  companionship.  Now  then, 
begone  !  For  the  first  time  you  have  heard,  this  morning,  what  henceforth  you  shall  hear 
for  ever — begone,  I  say,  villain  and  slave  !  Make  me  rid  of  the  contamination  of  your 
presence !" 

"  It  is  well  for  you,"  exclaimed  Wyvil,  as  savagely  as  the  sense  of  guilt  detected, 
and  despair,  and  frenzy  can  drive  a  man  to  exclaim  even  against  his  conscience — "  it 
is  well  for  you  that  you  are  an  old  man,  and  her  father ;  else" —  and  he  clenched  his  fist, 
and  shook  it  in  the  air,  as  he  turned  to  leave  the  room. 

"  Ha,  dog !"  shouted  the  old  man — "  Ha,  dog  !  dost  thou  dare  threaten  ?  Then, 
old  man  as  I  am,  I  will  put  thee  to  shame.  Ha !  ha  !  the  old  man  will  strike  thee ! 
Without  there — Gregory,  Charles,  Martin — come  all !  come  all !  I  say,  and  see  me  strike 
him  !"  and  he  rushed  fiercely  forward  as  if  to  clutch  him.  But  there  was  still  enough 
of  grace  and  manhood  left  in  Wyvil,  that  he  awaited  not  the  onslaught  of  the  aged 
mourner,  but  darted  quickly  through  the  door,  closed  it  behind  him,  and  rushing  down 
the  passage,  met  the  man  Charles,  who,  fancying  that  he  was  called  only  to  show  him 
forth,  did  so  in  scorn  and  silence.  As  soon,  however,  as  he  had  seen  Wyvil  out  of  the 
gates,  and  had  satisfied  himself  that  no  one  of  the  household  had  observed  him,  he  hurried 
back  to  his  master's  room  ;  for  he  had  heard  his  voice  raised  so  far  above  its  natural 
pitch,  and  had  caught  words  of  passion  so  unusual,  that  he  almost  feared  some  catae- 
trophe.  He  reached  the  doOr,  and  as  he  was  about  to  knock  for  admission,  his  worst 
apprehensions  were  confirmed,  by  the  appearance  of  a  thin  narrow  stream  of  some 
dark  fluid,  trickling  slowly  over  the  sill  and  dabbling  the  rich  carpet.  Without  a 
moment's  pause  he  rushed  in,  half  beside  himself  with  terror — under  his  feet  there  was 
a  pool — a  veritable  pool  of  blood ;  and  in  a  large  armed-chair,  half-seated  and  half 
lying  on  the  table — as  if  he  had  fallen,  and  with  an  effort  struggled  up  again — was  the 
good,  gentle  scholar ;  his  thin  white  hair,  splashed  with  the  gory  witness,  and  his  pale 
lips  crimsoned  with  the  tide,  which  in  that  ecstacy  of  anger,  had  flowed  from  his  vitals. 

At  first,  the  servant  believed  that  he  was  already  dead ;  but  as  he  raised  him  gently  to  an. 
erect  position,  he  perceived  that  the  rush  of  blood  had  for  the  most  part  ceased,  and 
that,  though  very  weak  and  faint,  he  was  still  alive  and  sensible  ;  for  as  he  met  his  eye, 
a  faint  smile  played  over  his  wan  face,  and  he  seemed  about  to  speak. 

"  Hush,  hush  !  my  master,  my  dear  honored  master  !  Hush  thee  till  I  call  help,  and 
all  shall  yet  be  well." 

"  No,  Charles,"  the  dying  man  said  very  feebly,  and  at  each  word  a  little  blood  again 
oozed  from  the  corners  of  his  mouth — "  no,  do  not  go ;  I  shall  be  dead  directly — and  I 
have  much — much  that  I  would  say  !" 

"  Curse  on  him — curse  on  him  !"  exclaimed  the  servant ;  "  he  hath  done  this,  the 
villain,  and  I  not  near  to  aid  thee,  my  master  !" 

"  No,  you  are  wrong ;  no,  Charles  !"  Selby  gasped  even  more  faintly  than  before , 
"  not  he,  not  he — my  own  rash  wicked  passion.  Remember  this — promise  me  that 
you  speak  no  word  of  his  being  here  to  any  one  but  General  Henry — and  tell  him  what 
I  say.  Promise,  Charles — promise  me — you  did  not  use  to  disobey." 

"  And  will  not  now — I  promise  thee  ;"  cried  the  man,  as  distinctly  as  he  could,  in  the 
intervals  of  his  tears. 

A  gleam  of  satisfaction  brightened  across  the  face  of  his  dying  master. 

"  Let  Alice  never  know  it — remember !  Oh,  Lord  receive  my  spirit !"  His  speech 
now  came  in  gasps,  and  the  blood  gushed  out  constantly,  so  as  almost  to  choke  him; 


180  MARMABTTKE     WYVIL; 

"  Tell — tell — "  he  hiccoughed  with  a  mighty  effort — "  tell  her — that  I  died — blessing 
her !"  The  two  last  words  he  enunciated  clearly,  as  though  he  no  longer  felt  either 
pain  or  weakness ;  and,  with  them,  he  rose  to  his  feet,  stretched  his  arms  upward, 
and,  as  if  answering  some  summons  heard  by  his  ears  alone,  "  I  come  !"  he  cried,  and 
fell  gently  backward  on  the  breast  of  his  faithful  follower.  The  good  man  had  gone 
to  his  account ! 


CHAPTER    XXXII. 


THOSE  were  the  days  when  servants  waited  on  their  masters,  not  with  lip-loyalty 
alone,  but  with  heart-service ;  when  the  dependent  was  not  looked  upon  as  a  mere  hire- 
ling, to  be  considered  only  with  reference  to  the  work  done  and  the  wages  paid ;  nor 
the  employer  regarded  solely  as  the  dispenser  of  food  and  raiment,  to  be  cheated  as 
much,  and  obeyed  as  little  as  practicable  ;  which,  I  fear  will  be  found  the  case  too  often, 
despite  the  much  vaunted  superiority  and  intelligence  of  these  modern  times.  Charles, 
who  had  lived  in  the  household  of  Mark  Selby  from  his  boyhood,  did  not,  therefore, 
immediately  rush  down  to  tell  every  member  of  the  family,  from  the  maitre  d'hotel  and 
house-keeper  down  to  the  marmiton  and  scullery-maid,  how  Major  Wyvil  had  slain  old 
Master  Selby;  but  taking  into  consideration  the  extremely  delicate  situation  of  Alice, 
and  her  entirely  unprotected  situation — having  first  laid  the  body  decently  on  a  couch 
and  covered  it  with  the  long  red-colored  cloak  which  the  good  gentleman  had  worn 
while  living — he  went  down  stairs  and  called  up  his  fellow-servant,  who,  like  himself, 
had  been  born  at  Woolverton,  and  had  never  knpwn  any  other  master.  Desiring  him 
to  remain  with  the  body  and  suffer  nobody  to  enter,  lest  Mistress  Alice  should  learn 
what  had  passed  too  soon,  he  went  off  instantly  to  Henry  Chaloner's  lodgings  in  the 
Rue  Royal,  and,  telling  him  all  that  had  occurred,  precisely  as  it  had  occurred,  alike 
without  exaggeration  or  diminution  of  the  truth,  entreated  him  to  come  up  forthwith  to 
the  Hotel  de  Gondi.  Shocked  as  he  was  and  pained  by  this  intelligence,  there  needed 
no  entreaty  to  hurry  Chaloner's  proceedings  ^  he  was  already  up  and  dressed,  when 
the  man  was  admitted  to  his  presence,  haggard,  and  pale,  and  panic-stricken — for  the 
excitement  which  had  nerved  him  to  his  duty,  in  the  first  instance,  had  wholly  passed 
away — and,  after  hearing  his  sad  tale,  and  asking  him  a  few  pertinent  questions,  he  put 
on  his  cloak  and  high-crowned  hat,  and  bidding  two  or  three  of  his  own  most  trusty 
men  to  buckle  on  their  swords  and  follow  him,  took  his  way  to  the  scene  of  the  ter- 
rible catastrophe. 

"  You  have  done  well — very  well,"  he  said,  "  Charles,  exceeding  well  ;  had  you 
not  strictly  obeyed  what  my  poor  cousin  told  you,  much  evil  would  have  come  of  it. 
You  are  quite  sure  that  you  have  not  mentioned  it  to  any  one  that  Major  Wyvil  was  in 
your  master's  room  this  morning?" 

"  I  promised  master  that  I  would  not,  General  Henry,"  said  the  man,  tears  streaming 
down  his  face — "  promised  him  just  before  he  went  to  heaven  ;  and  do  you  think  I 
would  break  my  word  to  him,  and  he  looking  down  and  hearing  me  ?" 

"  Indeed,  Charles,  I  do  you  not  so  much  wrong  ;  I  only  feared  that  in  the  haste  and 
terror  of  the  moment,  you  might  have  let  it  out  incautiously  to  some  of  your  fellow- 
servants." 

"  No,  General  Henry,  no ;  I  did  nothing  in  haste,  and  I  have  seen  no  one  this  morn- 
ing but  Anthony,  who  is  now  with  the  body,  and  he  knows  nothing  of  it." 

"  And  you  are  certain  that  no  one  saw  him  enter  ?" 

"  No  one  at  all ;  nor  go  out  either,  General." 

"  So  far  at  least,  all  is  well.  Then,  mark  me,  Charles — poor  Master  Selby  was 
quite  right,  it  would  go  near  to  kill  Mistress  Alice  did  she  ever  know  what  hand  Major 
Wyvil  had  to  do  in  your  master's  death.  Therefore,  my  good  fellow,  hold  steadily  to 
your  story — tell  the  truth  only— add  nothing,  but  quietly  omit  all  mention  of  the  cava. 


OR,     THE     MAID*S     REVENGE.  181 

lier.  Say  you  called  Master  Selby  at  his  usual  hour,  and  saw  him  arise  and  begin  to 
dress  himself,  left  him  to  do  some  other  work,  and  upon  your  return  found  him  as  you 
have  told  me.  Now,  do  you  understand  me  perfectly  ?" 

"  Perfectly,  General,"  the  man  replied ;  "  and  you  may  trust  me — I  will  do  as  you 
desire." 

They  had  by  this  time  reached  the  house,  and  all  the  servants  of  the  establishment 
being  at  length  on  foot,  Chaloner  sent  a  messsage  to  Madame  de  Gondi,  saying  he 
would  like  to  speak  with  her,  as  soon  as  might  be  convenient ;  and  then  bidding  his 
servants  wait  for  him  in  the  great  hall,  took  his  way,  quietly  and  sadly,  to  the  chamber 
of  his  departed  kinsman.  It  is  a  bitter  and  heart-chilling  scene  at  all  times,  and  under 
circumstances  the  most  favorable — the  dwelling-room  of  a  dead  person  !  tenanted  only 
by  the  cold  and  senseless  clay  of  him  who,  but  a  little  while  ago,  rendered  it  gay  and 
lightsome  by  his  living  presence.  The  chair  whereon  he  sat — the  pen  with  which  he 
wrote  yet  standing  in  the  ink,  as  he  perhaps  left  it — the  favorite  book  with  its  leaf 
turned  down  at  the  favorite  passage — the  garments — the  very  gloves,  perhaps,  which  he 
so  lately  wore,  retaining  still  the  mould  of  the  recent  hand  that  never  more  may  fill 
them!  all  these,  and  fifty  other  little  accessories  too  trivial  to  be  noted  or  remembered, 
contribute  to  make  up  at  all  times  a  dark  and  frightful  picture.  But  it  was  a  far  sadder 
and  more  terrible  array  of  circumstances  that  met  the  eye  of  Chaloner — all,  all  those 
were  there  ;  the  book — the  very  Epictetus — treating  of  restraint  and  patience  under 
wrong — which  he  had,  probably,  been  reading,  to  school  his  spirit  for  that  fatal  meeting — 
lay  on  the  board,  with  all  the  other  well-known  volumes  that  employed  the  good 
scholar's  studious  leisure  ;  but,  there  among  his  books,  and  on  the  tapestried  wall,  and 
on  the  Persian  carpet,  glared  the  dark  clots  of  life-blood  !  while,  outstretched,  pale  and 
livid  on  the  couch,  with  the  stout  serving-man  holding  the  cold  stiff  hand,  and  weep- 
ing over  it  with  all  but  woman's  fondness,  lay  all  the  mortal  part  of  the  wise  and  gen- 
tle student ! 

"  This  is  a  sad  sight !"  said  Chaloner,  with  difficulty  restraining  his  own  tears.  "  He 
was  a  good  man ;  we  will  trust  he  is  now  with  the  blessed.  Now  leave  me,  honest 
friends — I  would  be  here  alone  with  him  for  the  last  time.  Do  not  go  down,  but  wait 
beside  the  door  till  I  come  forth  to  ye."  His  words  were  instantly  obeyed  ;  and  then, 
kneeling  beside  the  body — "  Thou  art  gone  from  us,"  he  exclaimed,  "  my  more  than 
friend — my  father !  "  thou  art  gone  from  us,  happy  to  go  at  this  time  !"  and  burying  his 
head  in  the  vestments  of  his  dead  kinsman,  he  prayed  long  and  fervently ;  and  when 
he  arose,  although  his  air  was  sorrowful  and  chastened,  it  was  composed  and  firm. 
"  Heaven  give  me  strength,"  he  said,  "  to  go  through  with  this  painful  duty."  With 
these  words  he  left  the  chamber ;  and  telling  the  two  men  to  watch,  and  alter  nothing  in 
the  position  of  the  furniture  or  the  body,  until  the  police  judge  should  be  called  with 
the  physicians  to  survey  it,  he  went  to  break  the  heavy  tidings  to  Madame  de  Gondi, 
and  to  concert  with  her  the  means  of  disclosing  them  to  Alice.  The  former  he  found 
almost  prepared  for  what  he  had  to  tell  her ;  for  she  declared  to  him,  while  mentioning 
the  conversation  that  had  passed  between  them  the  last  evening,  that  there  had  been 
so  strange  an  alteration  in  the  whole  manner,  tone,  and  appearance  of  Mark  Selby,  as 
almost  to  satisfy  her  that  his  mortal  term  was  rapidly  approaching ;  and  it  was  with  a 
feeling  almost  amounting  to  pleasure,  that  he  heard  her  express  her  conviction  that 
Alice,  after  the  first  sudden  grief,  would  bear  the  blow  with  resignation,  and  even  look 
on  it  as  a  release  for  her  dear  father  from  worse  and  far  more  grievous  suffering. 

"  It  was  but  last  night  she  said  to  me — speaking  of  her  own  coming  dissolution, 
which  she  foresees  as  certainly  as  we  do — that  she  should  go  hence  with  the  regret 
alone,  to  leave  the  old  man  her  survivor ;  so  I  am  sure,  good  friend,  that  sh§  will  not  be 
grieved  by  this  beyond  her  power  to  bear.  Now,  General,"  she  added,  "  I  will  write 
forthwith  to  my  kind  friend,  the  Bishop  de  Lisieux,  and  pray  him  to  see  his  majesty, 
and  procure  the  remission  of  the  odious  droits  d*aubain,  by  which  you  know  all  per- 
sonal properties  of  any  foreigner  who  dies  here  becomes  forfeit  to  the  crown.  Do  you 
pend  for  the  Judge  of  the  Qu&rtier  and  Monsieur  Pallu,  the  great  surgeon,  and  let  us 


182  MARMADTTKB     WYVIL; 

have  the  investigation  over  before  she  knows  aught  of  it.  Remember,  she  has  no  BUS. 
picion  that  her  father  knows  anything  of  what  passed  in  Paris.  It  will  be  better  far 
to  leave  her  in  ignorance — think  you  not  so  ?" 

"  Oh  !  surely,"  replied  Chaloner;  "  she  must  not  for  the  world  know  that  he  died  in 
the  agony  of  grief  and  passion,  nor  that  her  recreant  lover  had  any  hand  in  it.  I  have 
already  written  to  England  to  resign  my  public  duties,  and  when  the  funeral  is  over  I 
will  persuade  her  to  return  home  to  Woolverton.  New  scenes  may  give  new  tone  to 
her  mind,  and  she  may  recover." 

"  Never  !"  said  Henriette— "  never !  her  end  is  nearer  than  we  think  for.  She  never 
will  see  England,  and  she  knows  it." 

"  Think  you  so  ?"  he  said,  "  indeed,  think  you  so  ?  Oh !  this  is  very  terrible — God's 
judgments,  of  a  truth,  are  all  inscrutable — how  else  should  this  one  villain  work  all  this 
agony  and  ruin,  and  go  unwhipped  of  justice  !" 

Nothing  more  was  said  at  that  time — both  parties  hastening  away  to  perform  their 
sad  duties ;  and,  for  awhile,  the  necessity  of  occupation  and  exertion  overpowered  the 
keenness  of  their  present  grief.  Before  noon,  however,  all  was  arranged — the  investi- 
gation had  been  held  ;  and  nothing  material  or  suspicious  having  been  elicited  from  the 
servants,  it  was  decided  by  the  judge  that  he  had  died,  as  we  should  now  say,  by  the 
visitation  of  God — and  accordingly,  the  permission  for  the  funeral  was  issued  in  due 
form.  The  king  returned  a  gracious  message,  remitting  instantly  the  forfeiture,  accom- 
panied by  kind  inquiries.  The  scene  of  death  was  cleansed  of  its  fearful  attributes ; 
the  corpse  laid  out  and  robed  in  the  vesture  of  the  grave  ;  the  chamber  darkened  from 
without,  and  an  old  English  clergyman — many  Episcopal  dignitaries  having  been  forced 
to  fly  the  Presbyterian  persecutions  of  their  own  land — summoned  to  do  the  last  sad 
offices  of  his  religion — to  render  "  ashes  to  ashes,  dust  to  dust,"  the  mortal  part  of  his- 
respected  countryman.  The  day  was  far  advanced,  however,  before  Madame  de  Gondi 
again  met  Chaloner ;  and  when  she  did  so,  it  was  to  request  his  presence  in  the  sick 
room  of  Alice. 

"  She  bore  it,  as  I  told  you  I  believed  she  would,  most  christianly — most  nobly  : 
there  was  a  burst  of  acute  grief  at  the  first,  but  soon  she  became  quite  calm  and  con- 
tented. '  I  shall  be  with  him,'  she  said,  'very  soon — I  am  happy  that  it  is  so — he  would 
have  pined  and  been  very  wretched  had  I  gone  before  him.  We  shall  soon  meet — I 
feel  it — yea !  with  a  humble  confidence,  I  know  it — in  blessed  habitations,  never  again 
to  sorrow,  or  be  severed.'  She  wishes  now  exceedingly  to  see  the  body,  and  confer 
with  you  respecting  the  funeral.  There  is,  you  know,  some  difficulty.  Our  people— our 
canaille  I  mean  of  this  good  city,  are  by  no  means  too  tolerant ;  and  I  fear  if  we  should 
seek  to  bury  him  with  pomp,  there  might  be  rioting  and  insults." 

"  Oh,  that  is  easily  arranged,"  said  Chaloner — "  nothing  more  easily.  Good  De 
Granville  will  perform  the  rites  here  privately,  with  none  to  witness  them  except  our- 
selves and  his  servants.  The  coffin — I  have  ordered  one  of  lead,  for  he  will  be  removed 
to  England  shortly — can  be  conveyed  in  your  carriage  to  your  private  vault  at  midnight- 
can  that  not  he  managed  ?" 

"  Oh,  yes,"  she  replied ;  "  I  will  give  orders  for  it  now — but  would  you  let  her  see 
the  body  ?" 

"  Assuredly."  said  Chaloner ;  "  why  not,  I  pray  you  ?  she  would  never  be  contented 
if  she  did  not.  If  you  will  take  me  to  her  chamber  I  will  support  her  thither — it  is  but 
a  etep." 

"  Oh,  she  is  strong  enough  to  walk  ;  I  only  feared  its  effect  on  her  mind." 

"  You  do  not  know  her  mind  as  I  do,  dear  lady,"  said  Henry ;  "  no  hero  has  a  firmer 
or  a  higher  !  Come,  let  us  go  to  her." 

Alice  was  seated  in  a  large  easy  chair,  when  they  went  in  to  see  her  ;  dressed  in  a 
close  gown  of  white  muslin,  which  scarcely  showed  more  delicately  pure  than  her 
transparent  skin,  with  the  redundant  tresses  of  her  beautiful  brown  hair  concealed  by  a 
plain  csp  of  lawn.  Upon  a  little  table  at  her  elbow,  there  lay  a  flask  of  some  stimulating 
perfume,  and  an  open  Bible  ;  and  near  to  these  stood  a  glass  pitcher  full  of  water,  with 


OB,     THE     MAID'S     REVENGE.  183 

a  Venetian  goblet.  She  had  been  weeping,  as  could  be  readily  perceived  ;  for  her  eye. 
lids  were  inflamed  and  slightly  swollen,  and  all  her  features,  even  to  the  lips,  were  as 
pale  as  living  flesh  can  be,  but  perfectly  resigned,  and  calm,  and  gentle.  She  stood  up 
as  they  entered  and  put  out  her  hand  to  Chaloner,  who  raised  it  quietly  to  his  lips  ;  and 
she  could  feel,  as  his  mouth  pressed  it,  a  warm  large  tear  drop  upon  its  tender  surface. 
For  a  moment  she  was  quite  overcome,  and  sinking  back  into  her  chair,  covered  her 
face  with  her  handkerchief;  but  in  less  time  than  could  have  been  expected,  she 
removed  it  from  her  features,  and  spoke  in  her  natural  voice. 

"  Oh!  Henry,  this  is  very  sad — this  is  very  sad  and  terrible  !  That  he  should  have 
gone  hence,  whose  whole  life  has  been  nothing  but  one  act  of  kindness  and  attention  to 
others — with  no  one  to  allay  his  sufferings — no  one  to  hold  his  dying  head — to  listen  to 
his  last  words  1"  and  she  again  burst  into  tears,  even  at  the  images  she  had  herself 
conjured  up. 

Chaloner  waited  till  the  paroxysm  was  over,  and  then  said — "  It  is  very  ead,  Alice — 
quite  sad  enough  without  our  conjuring  up  additions  to  make  it  sadder,  and  more 
terrible.  You  may  be  sure  he  suffered  little  or  nothing  of  mere  pain ;  for  he  was  quite 
well  a  little  time  before,  and  all  was  over  in  ten  minutes.  Besides,  he  had  some  one  to 
hold  his  head,  and  mark  his  dying  words,  and  save  them  for  his  fond  survivors ;  for, 
although  you  or  I  were  not  there,  as  doubtless  would  have  been  sweetest  to  him,  his 
faithful  servant  Charles  was  with  him,  and  tells  us  of  so  Christian  and  so  calm  a  parting 
as  few,  the  best  of  men,  may  hope  for.  His  last  thought,  except  one,  was  of  you  ;  his 
last  message,  'that  he  died  blessing  you;'  and  then  it  seemed  to  Charles  that  he 
received,  or  fancied  he  received ,  some  heavenly  summons ;  for,  starting  to  his  feet, 
with  eyes,  and  arms,  and  hopes  all  heavenward,  he  cried  aloud — "  I  come  I" — and  I 
think  that,  without  presumption  or  impiety,  we  may  believe  him  even  now  to  be  with 
Him  who  called  him  from  this  scene  of  trial  and  of  sorrow.  There  was  the  sweetest 
and  most  placid  smile  I  ever  witnessed  on  that  benevolent  pale  face — such  smiles  mark 
not  the  faces  of  the  dead  who  die  not  just  and  happy  !" 

She  listened  calmly  and  with  profound  attention  while  he  spoke,  and  seemed  to  muse 
deeply  after  he  had  finished,  but  she  still  wept,  though  there  was  nothing  violent  or  pas- 
sionate  in  the  character  of  her -grief ;  and  Chaloner  again  said — 

"  I  do  not  tell  you  not  to  weep,  Alice,  for  that  would  be  irrational,  and  I  should 
therefore  be  sorry  that  it  were  the  case  ;  but  I  do  tell  you  not  to  mourn  as  one  who  has 
no  consolation,  for  you  must  recollect  that  your  dear  father  had  already  long  passed  the 
ordinary  term  of  human  life — that  he  retained  all  his  faculties,  all  his  enjoyments  to  the 
last — and  that,  had  he  lived  much  longer,  he  must  in  the  course  of  events,  have  been 
subject  soon  to  those  sad  ailments  and  afflictions  which  are  peculiar  to  extreme  old  age. 
There  is,  therefore,  perhaps  as  much  cause  to  rejoice  as  to  mourn  for  him,  who  has  only 
exchanged  doubt  for  certainty — mortality  for  everlasting  bliss  !" 

"  I  know  it,  Henry — I  know  it,"  she  replied  ;  "  sorrow  is  selfish  ever,  perhaps  more 
selfish  than  joy  even — and  though  I  know  that  by  his  easy  and  not  untimely  death,  he 
has  escaped  not  only  these  things  which  you  have  enumerated,  but  much  acute  and 
poignant  sorrow,  that  must  ere  long  have  broken  on  him,  and  of  which  he  passed  away 
in  happy  ignorance — still  it  is  hard,  very  hard  and  bitter,  to  part  from  one  who  has  so 
loved  and  cherished  us  from  our  birth  upward ;  on  whose  face  we  have  never  seen  a 
frown — from  whose  dear  voice  we  have  never  heard  a  tone  that  was  not  all  benignity 
and  kindness  ;"  and  with  the  words  her  eyes  again  overflowed,  and  she  continued  for 
some  little  time  incapable  of  speaking  ;  while  Henry  and  her  kind  hostess  kept  silence 
in  reverence  and  regard  for  her  feelings.  "  I  am  better — I  shall  be  better  now,"  she 
said  after  a  while,  as  if  relieved  by  her  tears — "  and  firmer.  Come  with  me,  Henry — I 
would  look  upon  him — would  take  leave  of  him  here  ;  soon,  I  trust—soon  again  to  meet 
him  where  there  be  no  more  partings." 

"  You  are  strong  enough,  Alice?"  he  said, in  a  tone  of  inquiry;  "if  so,  I  am  quite  ready 
to  attend  you — but  nerve  yourself,  dear  girl,  for  it  is  as  you  say,  a  sad  and  painful  sight !" 

"  No,  Henry  I"  she  made  answer,"  the  sight  of  a  dear  father  can  in  no  case  be 
painful— let  us  go !" 


184  MARMADUKE     WYVILJ 

Chaloner  gave  her  his  arm  immediately,  and  conducted  her  to  the  little  study  where 
the  event  had  taken  place,  and  where  the  body  lay,  clothed  in  the  habiliments  of  the 
tomb — the  face  covered  with  a  linen  napkin — the  two  serving  men,  who  had  followed 
him  from  his  distant  house,  watching  in  tears  beside  the  dead.  They  rose  up  gently 
as  their  young  mistress  entered,  and  stole  with  noiseless  steps  out  of  the  room — feeling, 
with  a  delicacy  rare  to  their  rude  though  honest  natures,  that  grief  such  as  Alice's 
should  have  its  vent  in  solitude.  She  entered  with  a  step  so  steady,  and  a  mien  so 
composed  and  tranquil,  that  Chaloner  gazed  on  her  in  amazement — one  little  shudder 
shook  her  slight  figure  for  a  moment,  as  her  eye  fell  upon  the  motionless  and  rigid  out- 
lines of  that  dear  form  ;  but  she  made  no  pause,  nor  did  the  transient  shiver  again 
move  her,  but  she  walked  straight  forward  to  the  couch  whereon  he  lay,  and  there 
stood  still,  gazing  on  him  with  a  tearless  eye,  but  with  the  shadows  of  many  memories 
fleeting  across  her  eloquent  features.  Chaloner  stood  beside  her  in  deep  silence,  not 
all  unmixed  with  awe  ;  for  there  was  something  almost  terrible  in  the  appearance  of  the 
fair  pale  girl — so  slight,  so  frail,  so  spiritual,  in  her  evanescent  beauty — so  still  and 
passionless,  that  she  seemed  scarcely  more  alive  than  that  on  which  her  eyes  were  fixed 
immovably,  until  she  made  a  gesture  as  if  she  would  have  the  face  uncovered  ;  when 
he  stretched  forth  his  hand  and  removed  the  napkin  from  the  countenance  of  the  dead. 
It  was  indeed  as  he  had  said,  perfectly  calm  and  placid  ;  and  withal,  it  possessed  an  air 
of  bland  and  benignant  majesty,  which  gave  an  air  of  almost  supernatural  beauty  to  the 
white  lips,  and  their  aquiline  features.  There  was  a  sweet  smile  still  lingering  round 
the  mouth,  and  it  indeed  seemed  impossible  that  anything  of  pain  or  passion  should 
have  disturbed  the  last  moments  of  one,  whose  expression  was  so  lovely.  And  this 
was  probably  the  case — that  in  the  little  space  that  intervened  between  the  gust  of 
wrath  ihat  proved  too  violent  for  the  fragile  body,  and  the  actual  dissolution,  the  perma- 
nent and  real  character  of  the  man  had  overcome  the  temporary  conflict,  and  that  he 
had  indeed  died  happy. 

"  Yes,"  said  Alice,  after  she  had  gazed  upon  him  quietly  till  her  eyes  were  so  dimmed 
by  the  moisture  which  welled  into  them  constantly,  that  she  could  no  more  see  the  fea- 
tures— "  yes,  it  is  beautiful — almost  divine  !  Dear,  dearest  father !  happy,  indeed,  and 
blameless  was  thy  life — if  anything  of  mortal  mould  can  b,e  called  blameless ;  and,  God 
be  praised  for  it!  thy  death  was  happy.  Farewell — farewell!  and  if,  as  I  believe,  thy 
spirit  looks  down  from  above  on  her  whom  thou  so  truly  and  so  tenderly  didst  love,  and 
hears  the  words  I  utter,  pardon— oh !  pardon  me  the  many  cares  and  troubles  I  have 
given  thee.  Farewell — farewell !"  and  she  stooped  over  him,  and  pressed  her  lip's  to 
the  clay-cold  brow.  "  Farewell !  My  moan  is  made — my  tears  shall  no  more  flow.  I 
shall  go  to  thee,  my  father,  and  that  right  soon  ;  but  thou  shalt  not  return  to  me."  And 
with  the  words,  she  took  the  napkin  from  the  hands  of  Chaloner,  and  fixing  one  more 
long  and  wistful  look  on  the  unconscious  lineaments — one  more  last  kiss  upon  the  icy 
brow — she  spread  it  gently  over  him — -turned  away  suddenly,  as  if  she  could  not  trust 
herself  to  look  again,  took  Henry's  arm,  and  glided  from  the  darkened  chamber. 

Beyond  the  threshold  of  the  door,  she  passed  the  servants  who  had  been  watching ; 
and  raising  her  eyes  to  their  faces,  she  said,  with  a  melancholy  smile,  "  I  thank  you 
very  truly,  my  good  friends ;  and  God,  who  forgets  no*  good  or  grateful  deed,  will  cer- 
tainly reward  you,  for  that  you  have  not  forgotten  him  who  was  kind  to  us  all,  and  a 
father  while  he  was  yet  here. ,  Go  in  and  watch  with  him :  this  last  sad  duty  will  ere 
long  be  over." 

That  very  evening,  all  was  over — that  very  evening,  in  the  same  small  room  where 
he  had  passed  the  most  of  his  days  since  he  had  lived  in  Paris,  and  where  he  had  met 
his  end,  his  body  was  consigned  to  its  last  tabernacle — the  cold  coffin ;  and  there,  with 
some  of  those  about  him,  whom,  through  a  long  and  innocent  life,  his  presence  had  filled 
ever  with  a  sentiment  of  joy— none,  indeed,  who  had  known  him  truly,  save  Chaloner 
and  Alice,  and  the  servants  who  had  followed  him  across  the  sea ;  although  Madame 
de  Gondi  and  all  her  household  were  assembled — the  meek  old  clergyman  performed 
the  exquisite  aad  touching  service  appointed  by  the  church  of  England ;  and  thence  at 


OR,     THE     MAID'S     REVENGE.  185 

the  dead  of  night  was  he  conveyed  by  Henry,  only  with  the  sacristan  and  the  two  Eng- 
lish servitors,  to  the  vault  where  he  was  to  rest,  until  the  time  should  come  when  he 
might  be  removed  to  his  native  land,  and  gathered  to  the  long  home  of  his  fathers. 


CHAPTER    XXXIII. 

SEVERAL  days  elapsed  after  the  funeral  of  her  father,  and  Alice  gradually,  as  it 
appeared  to  those  about  her,  regained  not  only  her  cheerfulness,  but  health.  Her  step 
was  farmer,  her  eye  less  wildly  brilliant,  and  her  complexion  more  natural  in  its  hues, 
and  showing  less  of  the  hectic  flush,  which  tells  of  latent  fever.  So  much,  indeed,  did 
she  seem  to  amend,  that  a  delusive  hope  had  already  begun  to  g^ow  up  in  the  bosom  of 
Madame  de  Gondi,  and  even,  though  to  a  less  extent,  of  Henry  Chaloner ;  yet,  when 
they  hinted  this  to  her,  and  spoke  to  her  of  pleasant  projects  for  the  winter,  and  of  her 
return  to  Woolverton  with  the  early  spring,  she  would  only  shake  her  head  and  smile — 
but  since  the  death  of  her  father,  it  was  remarkable  that  the  smile  had  lost  its  grave, 
if  not  melancholy  character ;  and  that  although  she  was  never  joyous,  or  even  gay,  no- 
thing  could  be  more  remote  from  hopeless  grief,  or  permanent  yet  uncomplaining  sor- 
row, than  was  the  air  of  that  lovely  girl.  She  appeared,  indeed,  though  she  avoided 
speaking  on  the  subject,  to  be  looking  forward  to  her  approaching  dissolution  with  a 
quiet  confidence,  and  to  regard  it  not  as  a  thing  to  be  deplored,  but  rather  as  a  joyous 
consummation.  To  the  visits  of  the  worthy  surgeon  she  acceded  readily,  and  to  all 
his  medical  -measures  she  assented  willingly  ;  but,  one  day,  when  Chaloner,  deceived 
by  one  of  those  singular  turns  to  which  this  terrible  malady  is  subject,  which  was  con- 
suming her,  expressed  his  conviction  that  she  was  recovering — 

"  Do  not,"  she  said,  "  deceive  yourself,  truest  and  best  of  friends  ;  I  never  shall  re- 
cover— nor,  indeed,  do  I  wish  it.  I  take  all  proper  remedies — I  submit  to  the  precau- 
tions of  the  leech,  because  I  know  it  is  my  duty  to  await,  not  hasten,  His  appointed 
time.  But  these  matters  do  not  deceive  me  ;  let  them  not  mislead  you,  Henry.  More- 
over, as  I  tell  you,  it  is  my  earnest  prayer  evening  and  morning  to  Him,  that  when  His 
time  is  come,  he  will  permit  me  to  depart  in  peace,  and  join  those  that  await  me.  Pray, 
therefore,  Henry,  if  you  pray  for  me  at  all,  that  He  will  not  give  me  life,  but  death — 
which,  for  them  that  die  in  the  Lord,  is  a  boon  far  more  blessed." 

After  this  conversation,  no  allusions  more  were  made  to  the  subject.  Chaloner,  now 
admitted  as  an  habitufc  of  the  family,  passed  much  of  his  time  at  the  Hotel  de  Go.idi, 
and  things  were  falling  gradually  into  the  old  routine,  except,  that  as  yet,  no  strangers 
were  admitted  to  the  house  of  mourning ;  when  late  one  evening,  when  Henry  was 
reading  aloud  to  the  ladies  a  tragedy  of  Corneille,  a  servant  entered  with  a  small  note, 
upon  a  silver  salver,  addressed  in  a  feminine  hand  to  Mistress  Alice  Selby.  She  opened 
it  without  emotion,  observing,  as  she  did  so— 

"  I  knew  not  that  I  had  a  correspondent  in  this  great  city."  But,  as  she  said  it,  she 
was  a  little  agitated,  and  blushed  deeply ;  and  then,  asking  for  the  pens  and  standish, 
she  wrote  a  few  lines  in  reply,  sealed  it,  and  carefully  handed  it  to  the  man,  with  in- 
structions  to  give  it  to  the  messenger  who  had  brought  the  letter.  This  done,  she  rose 
from  her  seat,  and  twisting  up  the  note  she  had  received,  lighted  it  at  the  candle,  and 
then  threw  it  among  the  hot  wood  ashes  on  the  hearth.  "  It  was  a  note,"  she  said,  as 
if  imagining  some  explanation  might  be  necessary,  "  from  Isabella  Oswald,  asking  per- 
mission  to  come  and  see  me  soon." 

"  And  what  did  you  say  in  reply  ?'»  asked  Henriette. 

"  I  told  her  to  come  as  early  as  she  could  to-morrow.  What  little  I  saw  of  her  the 
other  day  pleased  me  very  much,  I  confess,  and  that  against  my  preconceived  opin- 
ion— for,  Chough  she  is  beyond  doubt  extremely  handsome,  there  is  something  not  alto, 
gethor  pleasing  in  the  style  of  her  beauty,  and  her  manners  are  at  first  extremely  rough 
and  masculine.  But  she  has  clearly  a  fine  heart  and  a  noble  spirit,  and  is  as  true  and 
upright  as  the  heart  of  truth  !" 


186  MARMADUKE     WYVILJ 

"  I  have  heard  also,"  said  Chaloner,  in  reply,  "  and  that,  too,  from  one  who  knows 
her  very  well — the  excellent  old  Marquis  de  St.  Eloy — that  she  is  a  most  noble  girl,  the 
very  soul  of  honor.  His  expression  touching  her  was,  that  she  would  not  say  a  word 
that  was  not  true,  or  do  a  thing  that  she  did  not  feel  to  be  right,  to  win  a  world  to  her 
feet ;  but  what  she  considered  true,  and  judged  right,  that  she  would  say,  and  would 
do,  in  despite  of  the  whole  world  !" 

"  It  is  a  fine  character,  truly,"  said  Madame  de  Gondi ;  "  though  not  a  woman's 
character — at  least,  what  I  think  a  woman's  character  should  be." 

"  Not,  ^perhaps,  altogether,"  replied  Henry  ;  "  yet  it  is  the  distinction  barely,  the 
shadow  of  a  shade.  The  first  part  of  his  sentence  is,  of  course,  pure  praise — no  man 
or  woman  either  ought  to  say  or  do  anything  which  they  believe  false,  or  evil,  to  win 
an  universe ;  and  every  woman  ought  to  do,  no  less  than  every  man,  that  which  she 
knows  right,  against  a  world's  opinion.  As  to  the  saying  all  that  she  knows  true,  that 
is  a  different  thing — for  many  things  may  be  true,  and  yet  exceeding  untimely — and 
most  untimely  things,  even  untimely  truths,  do  evil  more  than  good.  Still,  perhaps, 
Mi.-tress  Oswald's  fault  is  more  in  the  manner,  than  the  matter ;  and,  as  Madame  de 
Gondi  says,  it  is  a  very  fine  and  noble  character.  I  have  heard  some  exceedingly  great 
traits  and  actions  of  her  doing." 

"  Pray  tell  me ;  I  should  like  much  to  hear  them,"  exclaimed  Alice 

And  without  any  hesitation,  Chaloner  proceeded  to  relate  the  adventure  of  Isabella 
near  Villeneuve  St.  George,  and  her  spirited  conduct  in  interposing  between  Marma- 
duke  and  the  punishment  he  had  incurred  in  her  behalf;  and  several  other  anecdotes, 
displaying  the  same  fearless  generosity,  and  disregard  of  consequences,  in  the  prosecu- 
tion of  whatever  she  believed  it  right  to  carry  out.  Thus  the  night  passed,  until  they 
retired  ;  and,  the  next  morning,  when  Henriette  descended  to  the  breakfast-room,  she 
was  informed  that  Mademoiselle  Oswald  had  been  engaged  in  private  with  Mistress 
Alice  for  nearly  two  hours  space,  and  had  not  yet  departed.  Almost  at  the  same  in- 
stant the  two  girls  entered  ;  and,  at  once,  Madame  de  Gondi  perceived  a  peculiar  air 
of  flashing  joy  and  triumph  on  the  dark  fiery  eye  and  proud  features  of  Isabella,  con- 
trasted by  a  calmer  glow  of  happy  satisfaction,  that  seemed  to  warm  up  the  tranquil 
face  of  Alice  into  more  animation  than  it  was  generally  seen  to  wear.  Isabella  tarried, 
at  her  request,  to  partake  the  first,  and  perhaps  most  thoroughly  social  meal  of  the  day  ; 
and  everything  passed  very  pleasantly  till  Henry  entered ;  soon  after  which,  with  an 
excuse  for  having  made  so  long  a  stay,  the  fair  visitor  withdrew. 

"  Now,  cousin  Henry,"  said  Alice,  before  the  other  could  have  reached  the  hall  door, 
"I  want  to  have  some  talk  with  you  on  matters  of  grave  business — about  estates,  and 
rent-rolls,  and  life-tenures,  and  I  know  not  what ;  and  so,  as  these  things  are  not  very 
entertaining  to  most  people,  we  will  leave  our  dear  Henriette  awhile,  and  go  to  settle 
these  matters  in  the  library." 

The  library  was  a  large  and  somewhat  gloomy  room,  the  last  of  the  suite  of  great 
apartments,  and  opened  by  a  side-door  into  the  little  chamber,  which  had  been  occu- 
pied by  her  father ;  and  it  so  happened,  that  except  the  servants,  who  had  been  espe- 
cially directed  since  the  arrival  of  Mark  Selby  to  alter  the  arrangement  of  nothing  in 
the  library,  no  person  had  entered  it  since  his  death.  As  they  went  in,  therefore,  the 
first  thing  that  met  their  eyes  was  a  pair  of  library-steps  standing  against  one  of  the  tall 
book-cases,  with  a  large  folio  volume  lying  open  on  the  topmost  ledge,  where  it  had 
been  unquestionably  left  by  the  old  scholar ;  and,  as  if  to,  render  this  fact  even  more 
certain,  one  of  his  gloves  had  dropt  upon  the  floor,  and  still  remained  where  it  fallen, 
probably  on  the  very  morning  of  his  decease. 

"  Alas  !  alas  !  my  father,"  exclaimed  Alice,  as  she  saw  it ;  and  darting  forward  she 
caught  it  up,  and  pressed  it  to  her  lips,  and  bathed  it  with  her  tears,  and  remained  for 
some  time  in  great  and  speechless  agitation.  By  degrees  she  recovered,  however,  her 
self-composure,  and  sitting  down  by  the  great  velvet-covered  table — "  This  is^no  time," 
she  said,  "  for  weakness  ;  and  I  have  much  to  say  to  you  and  to  do,  cousin  Henry,  and 
I  require  your  assistance  and  advice,  Therefore,  without  apology,  I  shall  go  to  the 


OR,     THE     MAID'S     REVENGE.  187 

point  at  once.  I  am  now,  if  I  understand  it  rightly,  since  the  event  that  we  so  much 
deplore"— and  her  voice  faltered,  as  she  spoke—"  sole  and  last  heiress  of  Woolverton 
Manor,  Low  Barnsley,  and  Thorpe  Regis — Oakdale  and  Thorney  Bum  falling  to  you, 
as  next  male  heir — pray  interrupt  me,  if  I  am  wrong." 

"  No,"  he  said,  "  you  are  perfectly  right,  Alice ;  all  these  are  yours,  in  your  own 
right,  and  at  your  own  sole  disposal — you  being  last  heir  entail  of  the  three  manors  first 
mentioned." 

"  And  can  I,  by  will,  give  the  reversion  of  these  three  to  any  one  I  choose,  Henry  ?" 

"  Surely  you  can,  and  could  even,  if  you  had  children." 

"  And  if  I  were  to  die  without  any  will  ?" 

"  Then  Alice — but  may  God  long  avert  the  day — would  they  revert  to  me,  as  next 
of  kin  and  heir  at  law." 

"  I  thought  so — 1  thought  so,"  she  replied ;  "  then,  so  far  there  is  no  will  needed. 
Now  tell  me,  what  are  each  of  these  three  manors  worth  in  annual  rent  ?  you  used  to 
assist  my  poor  father — tell  me  the  value  of  the  three." 

"  Woolverton  is  the  most  valuable,  yielding  clear  eighteen  hundred  pounds ;  Low 
Barnsley  is  called  twelve  hundred,  and  Thorpe  Regis  nine — together,  they  are  worth  at 
least  three  thousand." 

"  Now  tell  me,  Henry — can  I,  without  assigning  away  the  ownership  of  the  soil,  the 
right  of  the  land,  the  fee  simple  I  believe  they  call  it,  order  a  sum  to  be  paid  annually 
to  any  one  I  will,  from  the  rents  for  a  term  of  years,  or  for  ever  ?" 

"  Surely,  you  can  a  rent  charge  for  a  term  of  years,  or  in  perpetuity — that  is  quite 
easy — but  why  not  bequeath  the  estates  at  once,  if  you  are  resolved  to  do  this  now  ?" 

"  Because  I  do  not  wish  it — I  will  not  remove  the  ownership  of  one  foot  of  land,  or 
the  right  of  protecting  one  of  the  poor  tenantry  from  him  to  whom  it  rightfully  belongs. 
Now  listen  to  me,  Henry — take  up  a  pen  and  make  notes  of  what  I  tell  you.  Find 
me  a  good  and  honest  lawyer,  an  English  one  he  should  be — can  you  do  this  ?" 

"  Easily,  my  dear  Alice — there  are,  I  regret  to  say,  too  many  English  of  all  ranks 
and  professions  here  in  Paris,  banished  from  home  by  these  sad  civil  wars,  to  make  it 
difficult  to  find  soldier,  or  priest,  or  counsellor.  I  know  a  man  who  will  do  your  bid- 
ding truly,  and  I  myself  was  long  enough  a  templar,  to  see  that  he  do  so.  Now  then, 
proceed." 

"  Let  him  then  draw  up,  with  the  least  possible  delay,  my  last  will  and  testament. 
It  will  be  but  a  short  and  easy  one.  I  wish  to  bequeath  all  the  lands,  all  the  books,  and 
furniture,  and  plate — in  short,  everything  to  yourself ;  thinking  you  would  rather  receive 
them  as  the  affectionate  bequest  of  a  woman  you  love,  than  as  the  award  of  the  law. 
All  the  old  servants  of  the  family  and  pensioners,  I  likewise  bequeath  to  your  charity ; 
charging  you  never  to  permit  them  to  want  homes,  or  food,  or  raiment.  To  my  dear 
cousin  Madame  de  Gondi,  five  hundred  pounds  to  buy  a  diamond  solitaire  in  memory 
of  her  poor  Alice  !  And  now — now,  dear  Henry,  comes  the  point  of  all !  I  fear  that 
you  may  not  approve  it — but  still  it  must  be  so — and,  if  I  grieve  you  by  it,  you  will  for- 
give me,  for  that  it  is  the  first  grief  that  poor  Alice  Selby  ever  caused  you  knowingly — 
the  second  she  ever  caused  you !  Is  it  not  so,  dear  Henry  ?" 

"  In  the  first  place,"  answered  Chaloner,  "  I  have  no  right  either  to  approve  or  dis- 
approve, dearest  Alice  ;  and  in  the  second,  I  do  not  see  why  you  should  suppose  me 
likely  to  disapprove— but,  at  all  events,  be  quite  sure,  that  as  far  as  in  me  lies,  I  will  do 
your  wishes." 

"  This  it  is,  then,"  she  went  on  quietly ;  "  I  wish  to  settle  one  thousand  pounds  per 
annum  upon  Major  Marmaduke  Wyvil" — and  again  her  voice  failed  her,  so  much  that 
she  could  hardly  utter  the  words — "  provided  he  marry  Mistress  Isabella  Oswald  within 
one  year  from  the  date  of  the  bequest — that  thousand  pounds  to  be  chargeable  on  the 
rents  of  Low  Barnsley  and  Thorpe  Regis — but  if  that  sum  cannot  be  raised,  without 
trenching  on  the  revenues  of  Woolverton,  then  so  much  as  the  rents  of  the  said  manors 
will  produce  ;  during  the  time  and  to  the  end  of  his  natural  life — or  to  his  widow  if  she 
should  survive  him,  until  the  end  of  her  life — that  widow  being  the  said  Mistress  Os, 


188  MARMADT7KE     WYVIL; 

wald — the  whole,  after  the  death  of  both  of  them,  to  revert  to  yourself,  Henry.  I  will 
not  ask  you  whether  you  think  well  or  ill  of  this  application  of  my  property — for  I  know 
that  you  cannot  think  well  of  it — and  I  will  not  put  you  to  pain  by  compelling  you  to 
say  so.  But  I  have  thought  much  and  deeply  about  it ;  and  I  have  so  many  reasons  for 
devising  it,  and  reasons  which  I  cannot  explain  to  you,  but  which  are  altogether  satis- 
factory to  myself — which  are  based  on  a  good  motive — which  will,  I  think,  produce  a 
good  end — and  which,  whatever  be  the  consequences,  will  at  least  make  me  happy  in 
the  contemplation  of  what  I  have  done,  while  I  remain  here." 

"  For  me,  Alice,"  answered  Chaloner,  "  the  last  reason  is  sufficient ;  beyond  this  I 
will  say  nothing,  except  that  T  will  go  forthwith,  and  have  your  wish  placed  in  train  of 
execution.  Is  there  aught  more  that  I  can  do  ?" 

"  Yes !"  replied  she,  "  there  is  !  I  wish  a  rent  charge,  or  whatever  you  call  it,  of  the 
same  amount,  and  on  the  same  conditions,  and  chargeable  upon  the  same  estates  to  be 
made,  so  as  to  be  binding  during  my  life-time,  from  this  very  da  te  ;  for  my  object  is  to 
give  him  that  sum  now,  and  secure  it  to  him  during  his  life,  so  as  to  bring  about 
his  alliance  with  Isabella,  whose  father  has  refused  his  consent  until  Wyvil  can  show 
that  he  has  an  income  of  the  amount  named.  This  deed  I  wish  to  give  him,  and  it  must 
be  so  worded,  as  to  leave  it  doubtful  by  what  means  it  was  obtained,  or  upon  what 
consideration." 

"  Do  you  feel  sure  that  you  are  doing  well,  Alice,  in  bringing  these  two  persons 
together,  after  all  that  has  passed  ?" 

"  I  think  I  do,"  she  answered — "  I  feel  sure  that  I  do ;  and  I  trust  that  I  am  not  mis- 
taken. At  all  events,  my  intents  are  pure — the  end  of  them  is  with  Him  who  only 
knows  and  governs  all  things.  Will  you  assist  me,  and  that  presently  ?" 

"  Be  sure  I  will !"  said  he,  "  I  will  go  look  to  it  directly." 

"  And  how  soon  can  it  be  effected  ?" 

"  I  think  this  very  evening;  but  to-morrow  at  the  latest." 

"  Pray,  then,  let  it  be  done  at  once  ;  and  when  it  is  done,  let  your  lawyer  bring  both 
documents  up  hither  forthwith  to  be  signed.  You  and  Madame  de  Gondi  will,  I  doubt 
not,  be  my  witnesses.  I  thank  you,  Henry,  for  this  is  very  kind." 

"  Not  kind  at  all,"  said  he,  "  it  is  a  simple  duty  ;"  and  with  these  words  he  left  the 
room,  taking  the  notes,  which  he  had  made,  along  with  him;  but  she  continued  some 
little  time  in  deep  and  solemn  meditation. 

"  How  very  noble  ever,  and  generous,  and  good  and  gentle  !"  she  exclaimed  at 
length :  "  It  is  wonderful  that  I  could  not — that  I  cannot  love  him — wonderful,  truly  ! 
Oh,  Wyvil !"  and  with  a  deep  sigh  she  too  arose,  and  leaving  the  deserted  library,  went 
to  join  her  cousin  Henrietta. 


CHAPTER    XXXIV. 

IT  was  already  evening  of  the  day  that  succeeded  to  the  conversation  between  Cha- 
loner and  Alice  ;  but  the  sun  had  not  yet  sunk  below  the  horizon,  and  his  slant  rays 
were  pouring  a  flood  of  lurid  ruddy  light  into  the  western  windows  of  the  library,  where 
there  were  gathered,  in  that  stately  room,  a  little  group  consisting  of  five  persons — 
Madame  de  Gondi  and  her  young  English  cousin ;  Chaloner  and  the  lawyer,  a  fine 
bald-headed  man  with  a  high  prominent  forehead,  and  an  expression  of  intellect  and 
benevolence,  rather  than  of  craft  or  shrewdness  ;  and  lastly,  the  lawyer's  clerk  or  scriv- 
ener, carrying  a  leather  case  which  contained  the  documents.  All  these,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  the  personage  last  named,  were  seated  at  the  board,  while  he  was  reading  aloud 
in  a  clear,  cold,  and  extremely  unpleasant  tone  of  voice,  the  will  which  had  been  drawn 
up  strictly  in  accordance  with  the  dictates  of«  Alice — and  it  would  have  been  no  unin- 
teresting study,  whether  for  a  painter,  or  a  searcher  into  the  minds  of  his  fellow  men, 
the  several  expressions  of  the  four  five  faces  of  those  who  listened  to  that  unimpressive 


OR,     THE     MAID'S     REVENGE.  189 

reading.  The  countenance  of  the  fair  girl,  whose  will  it  was  that  occupied  all  ears, 
was  perfectly  intent  on  every  clause  and  phrase  as  she  sat  still,  assenting  now  and  then 
by  an  easy  motion  of  the  head,  and  evidently  pleased  and  gratified  at  the  luminous  style 
in  which  her  bequests  were  detailed.  Chaloner's  noble  head  expressed  no  more  than 
earnest  and  undivided  attention ;  while  Henriette  de  Gondi,  although  attentive  to  a 
degree,  was  restless  and  impatient ;  and  so  dissatisfied  with  the  tenor  of  the  whole 
testament,  that  it  could  not  fail  to  be  observed  by  every  one  in  the  library.  The  coun- 
sellor, by  whose  opinion  the  testament  had  been  planned,  while  he  took  in  the  whole 
sense  of  every  word,  even  the  most  trivial,  which  his  clerk  recited  ;  had  at  the  same 
time  leisure  to  let  his  eyes,  and  one  faculty  at  least,  if  not  more  than  one  of  his  capri- 
cious mind,  wander  over  the  other  actors,  and  form  an  estimate,  if  not  an  opinion  of 
their  motives.  At  length  the  reading  was  brought  to  a  conclusion ;  and  when  the 
clerk  had  ceased,  and  the  document  was  laid  upon  the  table — 

"  Now,  cousin  Alice,"  said  Chaloner,  "  does  this  which  you  have  heard,  embody  all 
you  intend  ?  and  is  there  any  error  in  our  understanding  of  your  bequests  ?  For  the  rest, 
having  carefully  perused  it,  I  can  be  answerable  that  this  man  has  read  it  correctly." 

"  It  is  precisely  what  I  wish — precisely  to  the  letter,"  answered  Alice ;  "  what  now 
remains  to  make  it  binding  and  complete  ?" 

"  Your  signature  and  seal,"  answered  Chaloner,  "  but — " 

"  Well,  then,  give  me  the  pen,  and  I  will  sign  it  now,"  said  she,  "  and  you  two  can 
witness  it." 

"  I  was  about  to  say,"  interrupted  Chaloner,  "  that  I  should  strongly  recommend  your 
taking  it  yourself,  and  reading  it  in  private." 

"  No,  no  !"  she  replied,  "  oh,  no  !  my  mind  is  perfectly  made  up,  and  I  shall  not 
change  it — so  give  me  the  pen." 

"  As  you  will,"  he  replied ;  "but  it  concerns  myself  too  nearly,  that  I  should  witness 
it — but  our  good  friend  here,  Counsellor  Mansfield,  will  be  a  very  fitting  person." 

"  Is  Mistress  Selby  of  the  requisite  age,  to  make  her  signature  to  this  valid  ?"  asked 
Mansfield. 

"  Oh,  yes  indeed  !"  said  she,  with  a  smile;  "I  have  been  of  age  some  months,  as  the 
parish  register  at  Woolverton,  and  this  book" — producing,  with  the  word,  her  father's 
Bible,  wherein  the  date  of  her  birth  was  recorded — "  will  quite  sufficiently  testify." 

"  I  had  not  thought  you  had  spent  so  many  summers,  my  dear  young  lady,"  answered 
the  lawyer ;  "  but  though  you  have,  you  are  still  very  young  to  be  the  sole  proprietor  of 
so  fine  a  landed  fortune !" 

"Too  young!"  she  said,  with  a  deep  sigh,  her  eyes. again  filling  with  tears — for  her 
loss  was  still  too  recent  that  she  could  bear  to  hear  it  spoken  of  by  a  stranger — "  far, 
far  too  young !  But  come,  give  me  the  pen — I  would  fain  have  this  over :  besides,  there 
is  the  other  .paper,  which  must  be  read  afterwards." 

"  But,  Alice,  my  dear  girl,"  exclaimed  Madame  de  Gondi,  who  had  evidently  been 
anxious  for  some  time  to  speak,  "  I  cannot  sign  this  will  as  a  witness ;  and  I  hope  that 
you  will  consent  to  alter  it — for — " 

"  Oh,  no  !"  interrupted  Henry  Chaloner,  so  decidedly  that  it  was  impossible  for  Hen- 
riette  to  proceed.  "  That  legacy  of  five  hundred  pounds  cannot  unfit  you  for  a  witness;" 
and,  as  he  spoke,  he  fixed  his  clear  gray  eye  upon  her  with  a  glance  so  meaning  that 
she  understood,  immediately,  that  he  wished  her  to  comprehend  more  than  his  words 
expressed.  "At  all  events,"  he  added,  "if  you  are  not  convinced,  permit  me  to  say 
three  words  to  you  in  private,  when  I  doubt  not  I  can  remove  your  scruples.  Alice, 
excuse  us  for  one  moment — your  pardon,  counsellor" — and  he  led  her  out  into  the  next 
saloon  and  closed  the  door  behind  them. 

"  It  was  not  that!  it  was  not  that  at  all,"  said  she,  in  great  agitation.  "You  quite 
misunderstood  me." 

"  No,  my  dear  lady,  I  did  not ;  it  is  the  bequest  of  the  rent  charge." 

"  Oh,  yes — yes,  yes  I"  she  replied.  "  It  is  quite,  quite  too  horrible  !  quite  too  unnat- 
ural !  to  see  her  thus  endow  the  man  who  slew  her  father — for  he  did  slay  him,  as 
much  as  if  he  had  smitten  him  with  his  sword !" 


190  MARMADTTKE     WYVIL    . 

"  I  know  it,"  he  replied,  gloomily — "  /  know  it,  and  she  must  not ;  and  therefore  we 
must  let  this  pass.  Believe  me,  I  regret  it — loathe  it — as  much  as  you  can  do ;  but 
yet,  believe  me,  it  must  be,  unless  indeed  we  reveal  to  her  the  part  the  villain  played  in 
her  father's  death-scene  ;  and — " 

"  By  so  doing,  you  would  say,  we  should  slay  her !"  interrupted  Henriette,  greatly 
moved.  "  Is  it  not  so,  General  Henry  ?" 

"  Even  so,"  he  replied,  "  and  gain  nothing  by  it.  No  other  argument  can  avail,  save 
to  annoy  and  lacerate  her  feelings.  So  fixed  is  she — so  high,  and  so  fill  of  her  good 
and  great  .intent,  that  it  were  an  easier  feat  for  some  new  Archimides  to  unsphere  this 
puissant  globe,  than  to  warp  her  or  turn  her  from  the  path  of  what  she  truly  believes 
right.  Besides,  although  Alice  mean  it  not,  bethink  you,  lady,  didst  ever  hear  or  read 
of  a  more  grand  and  noble — I  had  well  nigh  said,  Godlike — vengeance?  If  this  be  not 
to  heap  coals  of  fire  on  his  head,  I  know  not  what  it  is.  That — that  is  half  the  cause 
why  I  consent.  Think  you  the  recreant  and  dastard  knave  will  not  writhe  like  the 
wretch  upon  the  mortal  rack,  and  sweat  blood  in  his  agonies,  even  as  he  receives — for, 
mark  my  words,  the  craven  will  receive — these  alms  from  her  whom  he  has  murdered  ? 
Lady,  we  must  consent  to  this ;  but  think  not  that  this  base  wretch  shall  go  scathless, 
or  his  crimes  unavenged.  Surely,  there  sitteth  One  above,  without  whose  knowledge, 
not  so  much  as  a  sparrow  falleth  from  heaven." 

His  eloquent  and  fervent  manner — the  splendid  tones  of  his  deep  rich  voice,  sup- 
pressed, that  it  might  not  reach  the  ears  of  whom  he  spoke — and  above  all,  something 
almost  prophetic  in  his  confident  divination,  had  its  full  weight  on  the  mind  of  his 
companion  ;  so  that  she  grasped  his  hand  and  answered  only — 

"  You  are  the  wiser — now  let  us  return ;"  and,  as  they  entered  the  library,  she 
addressed  Alice  in  a  tone  far  more  subdued  and  grave  than  usual,  saying,  "Your  cousin 
has  convinced  me,  as  he  promised  he  would :  I  am  ready  to  witness." 

"  I  thank  you ;  it  is  all  right  now,"  said  Alice,  smiling,  as  she  affixed  her  seal  and 
signature  to  the  testament,  and  went  through  the  legal  forms,  witnessed  by  Mansfield 
and  Henriette  de  Gondi. 

The  reading  of  the  deed  followed;  and  as  it  was  much  shorter  than  the  other,  and 
as  no  opposition  followed,  this  was  accomplished  speedily,  and  all  was  finished.  The 
will  was  delivered  instantly  to  Chaloner,  in  whose  custody  Alice  insisted  that  it  should 
remain :  but  the  deed  she  retained  herself,  saying,  that  she  knew  how  to  dispose  of  it. 
Duplicate  copies  of  either  deed,  unsigned,  but  with  the  date  of  signature,  and  the  names 
of  the  witnesses  endorsed  thereon,  were  also  handed  over  by  the  lawyer  to  his  fair 
client ;  and  then,  after  refreshments  had  been  offered,  and  refused,  he  declared  that 
his  business  was  at  an  end,  and  courteously  withdrew.  He  had  not  been  long  gone, 
however,  before  Alice,  whose  manner  throughout  the  evening  had  denoted  much  excite- 
ment, made  an  excuse  to  her  friends,  and  retired  at  an  early  hour  to  her  own  chamber, 
leaving  the  others  sitting  together  in  the  large  library.  For  several  minutes  after  her 
departure,  they  both  kept  silence,  pondering  in  their  own  minds  the  things  which  they 
had  heard  and  witnessed.  'At  last,  Madame  de  Gondi  spoke — 

"  Surely,  this  is  the  most  strange  and  fearful  tragedy  that  ever  I  heard  of.  It  is  one 
of  those  things,  that  happen  at  times  here  on  earth,  that  almost  make  men  doubt  Heaven's 
justice.  As  excellent  and  pious  an  old  man — as  innocent  and  pure  a  girl,  as  ever  bowed 
in  prayer — brought  down  to  the  grave  in  sorrow  by  one  villain's  baseness — and  that 
villain  rewarded  for  his  very  crime  and  treason  I" 

"  Rewarded  here  .'"  answered  Chaloner ;  "but  who  shall  tell  of  that  which  shall  come 
hereafter  ?  No,  no !  dear  lady,  this  ought  to  make  no  man  doubt  Heaven's  justice. 
Heaven's  Lord  professeth  not  to  reward  or  punish  here ;  but  suffereth  these  contradic- 
tions to  exist  here — this  crime  triumphant,  and  this  virtue  persecuted — only  to  teach  us 
where  to  fix  our  treasures  and  to  build  our  hopes — not  in  the  perishable  present,  but  in 
the  everlasting  future.  Besides,  who  shall  pretend  to  know  or  to  mete  the  judgments 
of  the  Everlasting  ?  Who  shall  presume  to  style  this  mortal  miserable,  or  that  one 
happy  ?  Truly,  it  is  not  gratified  ambition,  or  love  satisfied,  nor  gorged  avarice,  but  a 


OR,     THE     MAID'S     REVENGE.  101 

pure  soul  and  blameless  conscience,  that  gives  happiness.  Think  you  that  Wyvil,  in 
all  the  fervor  of  his  passion  for  this  new  beauty — in  all  the  pride  of  winning,  the  rapture 
of  possessing  her — conscious,  within  himself,  of  his  own  vilenebs — think  you  that  he 
will  be  more  happy  ?  or  the  deserted  girl,  that  seems  to  us  so  wretched  ?" 

"  Doubtless,  within  herself  she  will,"  leplied  Madame  de  Gondi;  "indeed,  I  believe 
that  in  the  midst  of  her  very  wretchedness,  she  might  be  called  happy  now." 

And  he,"  said  Henry  Chaloner,  sternly,  "in  the  midst  of  his  triumph !  Nay,  more  ! 
which  one  of  us  can  tell  how  long  this  triumph  will  last  ?  Perchance,  even  now  the 
Lord  has  raised  up  for  himself  a  temporal  avenger  !  For  surely  I  believe  that,  with  the 
crimes  as  with  the  virtues  of  mankind,  he  worketh  as  with  tools  his  own  great  ends  ! 
Most  surely  I  believe  that  he  hath  put  it  many  times  into  the  souls  of  men,  that  they 
should  do  this  thing  or  that,  and  lo  !  they  have  done  it  straightway,  not  knowing  where- 
fore ;  and  very  like  imagining  .they  were  accomplishing  some  small  and  selfish  object, 
when  of  a  truth  they  were  God's  ministers  of  vengeance  !" 

"And  think  you  then,  that  it  is  lawful  for  a  man  to  avenge  his  own  wrong  ?"  asked 
Henriette,  almost  awed  by  the  deep  voice  and  flashing  eye  of  the  enthusiast,  "  or  those 
of  his  friends  and  kindred  ?" 

"  I  know  that  God  hath  said  '  vengeance  is  mine  !'  and,  therefore,  I  do  not  think  man 
at  his  own  fancy  may  usurp  Heaven's  prerogative.  That  men  have  felt  themselves 
commissioned  unto  vengeance,  so  that  they  could  not  in  anywise  resist  the  bidding  from 
on  High — though  they  have  watched,  and  fasted,  and  prayed  earnestly,  that  that  cup  might 
be  removed  from  them,  I  well  know,  for  I  have  seen  it.  Sure  am  I  that  they  were  min- 
isters of  punishment ;  how  far  so  justified,  I  dare  not  even  conjecture." 

A  wild  and  painful  thought  crossed  Henriette's  mind,  and  caused  her  to  look  up 
intently  into  the  earnest  face  of  the  speaker ;  but  there  was  nothing  fanatical  or  ecstatic 
in  the  noble,  thoughtful  forehead,  or  meditative  eye — and  after  a  moment  she  continued  : 

"And  how  should  a  man  know  whether  indeed  he  is  commissioned,  or  if  it  be  but 
a  vain  delusion,  fed  by  his  own  resentment,  and  fostered  by  the  instigation  of  the 
Evil  one  ?" 

"Ay  !  how  indeed  ?"  said  Chaloner  in  reply,  very  thoughtfully;  "  there  is  the  ques- 
tion, in  that  how  ?  If  it  were  not  for  that — "  and  he  fell  for  a  time  into  a  fit  of  gloomy 
musing.  Madame  de  Gondi  watched  with  an  anxious  and  half-fearful  expression,  every 
variation  of  his  features  ;  but  by-and-by,  he  said — "  a  man  should  greatly  doubt  all  such 
suggestions,  and  examine  himself  carefully,  and  pray ;  and  even  then,  I  fear,  he  would 
be  very  often  misled — such  thoughts  are  dangerous,  at  best;  I  am  sorry  that  we  spoke 
of  them.  But  see,  we  have  worn  the  time  away  with  our  conversation,  that  the  night 
is  already  far  advanced.  Good  rest  to  you  to-night;  I  shall  call  to-morrow,  and  shall 
hope,  as  we  talked  of,  to  persuade  our  dear  invalid  to  take  the  air,  either  on  horseback 
or  in  your  carriage." 

"  Oh,  not  on  horseback,  that  would  be  quite  impossible  ;  she  is  too  weak  by  far. 
You  do  not  at  all  dream  how  weak  she  is,  when  not  aroused  by  circumstances ;  but 
we  will  talk  of  this  to-morrow." 

In  the  mean  time,  Alice  Selby  had  not,  as  her  friends  imagined,  retired  to  rest ;  but 
when  she  reached  her  chamber  had  sent  her  waiting-maid,  Margaret,  for  writing  imple- 
ments and  paper,  and  had  continued  constantly  occupied  until  this  late  hour  of  the 
night.  For  a  considerable  time  it  seemed,  as  if  she  could  not  satisfy  herself  with  the 
stvle  and  tone  of  that  which  she  was  desirous  of  composing,  for  she  commenced  a  dozen 
times,  and  after  writing  a  few  lines,  laid  down  her  pen  and  read  what  she  had  written, 
and  tore  it  up  and  committed  it  to  the  flames,  as  if  in  disgust.  At  length,  however,  she 
seemed  to  have  hit  upon  the  right  vein,  for  she  continued  to  move  her  pen  very  rapidly 
for  many  minutes,  her  thoughts  appearing  to  flow  from  her  mind  more  swiftly  than  her 
hand  could  commit  them  to  paper ;  and,  all  the  while,  thO  big  round  tears  were  plashing 
down  upon  the  sheet,  she  perfectly  unconscious  that  it  w&s  so,  until  the  words  were 
obliterated  almost  as  fast  as  she  formed  them  ;  and,  when  s,he  had  finished  one  side  of 
the  sheet,  and  was  about  to  read  it  before  turning  it,  she  discovered  that  her  labor  had 


192  MARMADTTKE 

been  absolutely  lost.  "Oh!"  she  exclaimed  aloud,  as  she  saw  what  she  had  been 
doing — "  this  is  extremely  weak,  and  foolish  ;  and  I  will  do  so  no  more  ;"  and  she  rose 
up,  and  waiked  across  the  room,  and  bathed  her  brows  and  eyes  in  water  from  the 
ewer,  and  returned  seemingly  quite  composed,  and  sat  down  again  to  her  task — and 
this  time,  she  kept  her  word ;  for  she  was  no  more  affected  in  like  sort,  but  wrote  with 
a  clear  eye  and  a  steady  hand,  till  she  had  done  what  she  desired. 

"  Marmaduke" — thus  ran  the  letter  which  cost  her  so  much  pains — "  or,  for  the  first  and 
last  time,  dear  Marmaduke,  I  have  thought  much  and  deeply  on  our  last  meeting ;  and 
if  I  cannot  quite  acquit  you  of  having  sinned  against  me,  I  must  confess  that  in  some 
sort  I  have  wronged  vou ;  this — for  we  two  shall  never  meet  again  in  this  world — I 
wish  to  repair.  I  do  not  believe  that  you  have  wilfully,  or  with  a  preconceived  deter- 
mination,  wronged  me  as  you  have  done.  Your  constancy  was  not  of  that  enduring 
quality — your  mind  not  of  that  vigorous  and  resolute  stamp  to  resist  absence  and  brave 
temptation.  This  perhaps  was  not,  and  should  not  be  esteemed  your  fault ;  but  the  mis. 
fortune  rather,  and  frailty  of  your  nature.  I  have,  moreover,  seen  and  learned  to  know, 
since  we  two  parted,  her  who  has  been  happier  than  I  in  gaining  your  affections — may 
she.be  happier,  likewise,  in  retaining  them !  and  having  seen  and  known  her,  I  recog- 
nize in  her  free  soul  and  fearless  spirit,  a  spell  more  potent  than  any  I  possess  to  hold 
dominion  over  the  love  of  a  mind  like  yours  ;  to  bring  out  your  excellencies — for  you 
have  many  such — to  their  brightest  lustre,  and  to  inhibit  and  restrain  your  foibles. 
That  you  should  love  her,  therefore,  and  that  your  love  for  her  should  surpass  that — 
perhaps  but  a  fancy,  born  of  circumstances  and  gratitude — which  you  once  entertained 
for  me,  I  do  not  marvel.  Had  you  dealt  uprightly  by  me,  and  candidly,  all  had  been 
well.  Now  mark  me — if  I  have  anything  for  which  to  forgive,  I  do  so — how  freely  and 
how  happily  !  and  if  my  words,  wrung  from  me  by  passion,  have  wronged  you  anything, 
forgive  me  likewise  !  But  do  not,  Marmaduke,  from  this  that  I  write,  deceive  yourself, 
or  vainly  fancy  that  I  repent  of  my  late  decision.  No !  I  am  fixed — and  fixed  for  ever  ! 
Nay  !  but  a  thousand  times  more  firmer  since  I  have  learned  to  love  that  beautiful  and 
noble  creature  whom  I  give  to  you  for  your  wife.  Yes — start  not  as  you  read — /  give 
to  you !  Cherish  her,  love  her,  honor  her  !  for  she  is  worthy  of  all  cherishing,  all  love,  all 
honor  !  Treasure  her  as  the  apple  of  your  eye — cleave  to  her  as  your  sweetest  stay  in 
tinae  of  trouble.  Thus,  and  thus  only  can  you  now  show  the  love  that  once  you  felt — 
the  kindness  that  I  hope  you  will  feel  for  ever — to  poor,  poor  Alice  Selby.  Yes,  Marma- 
duke, I  give  her  to  you !  may  you  be  happy  !  and  to  be  so  you  must  be  virtuous  and 
true  !  I  send  you,  herewith,  what  will  enable  you  to  perform  the  conditions  of  Henry 
Oswald.  It  is  my  own  to  bestow,  and  with  my  whole  soul  do  I  bestow  it.  Do  not 
shrink  back,  do  not  refuse  my  gift,  Marmaduke — do  not,  I  beseech  you.  If  your  proud 
heart  disdain  it,  think  and  remember,  I  am  proud  likewise  ;  yet  I  humble  myself  to 
entreat  you,  if  ever  I  have  done  you  aught  of  unkindness — if  you  now  owe  me  any. 
thing  of  love,  or  gratitude,  or  reparation — refuse  not  my  poor  boon  I  It  is  now  the  only 
thing  that  can  make  her,  who  was  once  your  Alice,  happy  !  By  the  Life  which  I  gave 
you!  by  the  love  which  I  bore  you!  by  the  affections  squandered  on  you!  the  hopes 
blighted  by  you  !  by  your  own  happiness,  and  hers  to  whom  the  gift  shall  unite  you!  I 
adjure  you — hard  though  the  task  be  to  your  haughty  soul — refuse  me  not !  No,  Marma- 
duke, you  will  not !  The  old  man,  the  good  old  man  who  loved  you — he  is  dead.  I  tell  - 
you  not  this  to  grieve  you,  for  he  knew  nothing  which  ,had  passed  from  me,  nor,  I 
believe,  suspected  anything.  His  last  words  were  a  blessing  upon  me,  and,  I  doubt  not, 
upon  you  likewise ;  and  in  this  knowledge  I  rejoice  daily.  I  would  not  for  the  world, 
that  he  h.ad  thought  me  wronged,  for  that  would  bitterly  have  grieved  him  ;  and,  per- 
haps, good  and  forgiving  as  he  was,  he  would  not  have  then  blessed  you.  He  is  gone, 
Marmaduke,  and  I  shall,  ere  long,  follow  him !  and  you  will  give  us  both  a  tear  and  a  green 
spot  in  your  memory !  And  you  too,  Marmaduke — you  must  one  day  go  hence,  and  your 
bright  Isabella  ;  and  we  shall  one  day  meet  and  know  each  other,  not  as  now,  through 
a  glass  darkly,  but  face  to  f'ace.  And  then — then,  Marmaduke,  let  Isabella  thank  me 
for  having  made  her  you&s,  and  tell  me  you  have  made  her  happy ;  and  that  will  well 


OR,     THE     MAID'S     REVENGE.  193 

repay  me  for  all  my  transient  sorrows.  Fear  not  then — scruple  not  to  accept  this  my 
parting  gift ;  two  persons  only  in  the  wide  world  besides  myself  know  of  it,  and  trust  me, 
their  mouths  will  be  for  ever  silent.  Farewell,  then,  my  beloved  !  for  so  in  this  last 
parting — so  I  must  call  you.  Peace,  and  prosperity,  and  love,  and  blessings  be  about 
you  !  Farewell !  and  when  you  think  of  Alice  Selby,  think  of  her  as  one  who  loved  you 
to  the  very  last,  and  prayed  for  you,  and  blessed  you,  and  will  bless  you  dying  1 

"  For  the  last  time, 

"  YOUR  ALICE." 
"Hotel  de  Gondi,  Nov. 20, 1652." 


CHAPTER    XXXV. 

A  WEEK  had  passed  since  Alice  dispatched  her  letter,  to  which  she  had  received  no 
answer,  save  in  the  report  that  shortly  reached  her  ears,  and  the  positive  announcement 
that  soon  followed  the  report,  of  the  approaching  marriage  of  Major  Wyvil  and  the  fair 
Isabella  Oswald.  Soon  after  this  announcement  had  become  public,  and  the  busy 
world  had  ceased  to  marvel  at  the  less  than  nine-days  wonder,  she  had  received  a  visit 
from  the  grateful  girl  herself;  who,  full  as  she  was  of  her  own  hopes,  and  fears,  and 
happiness  and  gratitude,  could  not  but  notice  and  deplore  the  ravages  which  the  few 
days,  since  they  had  met,  had  made  upon  her  lovely  benefactress.  The  cough  was 
now  almost  incessant,  and  visibly  painful  to  the  sufferer ;  the  hectic  glow  was  fixed 
and  constant ;  the  ghastly  glitter  of  the  eyes,  once  so  soft  and  tender,  was  now  unnatural 
and  terrible ;  and  the  emaciation  of  her  whole  frame  frightful  to  look  upon,  the  light 
seeming  almost  to  shine  through  the  delicate  and  slender  hands.  Yet  was  she  kind,  as 
she  had  ever  been,  and  thoughtful,  and  more  attentive  to  the  feelings  of  any  one  than 
to  her  own.  She  received  Isabella  with  an  evident  and  unfeigned  joy  ;  congratulated 
her  upon  the  prospect  of  her  future  bliss  ;  wept  over  her,  and  kissed  her  fondly  as  a 
sister  ;  and  ere  they  parted,  she  called  her  maiden,  and  sent  for  a  little  case  of  morocco, 
containing  a  small  set  of  beautiful  and  costly  diamonds,  which  she  put  into  her  hands, 
saying,  "  They  were  my  dear  mother's,  Isabella ;  and  though  the  setting  is  old-fash, 
ioned,  the  stones  are  of  a  good  water,  and  the  devices  have  been  much  admired.  I 
shall  never  wear  them,  and  I  have  none  dear  to  me  to  whom  to  leave  them  ;  do  me  the 
kindness  then,  to  take  them  and  wear  them  at  your  bridal — when  you  look  on  them, 
they  will  serve,  at  least,  to  remind  you  of  one  who  will  be  far  from  this  world,  long 
before  you  have  wakened  from  your  first  dream  of  married  bliss." 

"  As  if,  by  any  means,  or  ever,  I  could  forget  you — forget  one  to  whom  I  owe  every. 
thing." 

And  with  the  words  they  embraced  each  other,  and  wept  burning  tears  each  on  the 
other's  bosom,  until  Madame  de  Gondi  entered,  and  insisted  that  Alice  should  not  be  so 
agitated  any  longer ;  and  with  one  last  embrace,  those  strangely-made  friends  parted. 

A  week  had  passed,  and  the  morning  had  arrived  on  which  they  two  were  to  be 
made  one.  It  was  a  clear  and  lovely  sunrise  as  ever  shone  out  of  the  heavens  ;  there 
had  been  a  slight  touch  of  frost  on  the  preceding  night,  and  the  atmosphere  was  clear 
and  limpid,  and  the  sky  blue,  as  though  it  had  been  the  month  of  June  instead  of 
November,  and  yet  the  air  was  from  the  westward,  soft  and  balmy — for  the  warmth  of 
the  sunbeams  had  already  touched  the  earth,  and  dispelled  the  hoary  rime ;  and  a  few 
birds,  the  last  of  Autumn's  songsters,  were  chirping  merrily,  forgetful  that  the  genial 
days  had  indeed  flown,  and  that  this,  which  wore  their  semblance,  was  but  a  loiterer 
in  the  lap  of  winter.  Everything  wore  a  bright  and  cheery  aspect ;  the  very  sparrows 
in  the  gutters  and  on  the  housetops,  little  smoke-dried  and  dingy  effigies  of  birds,  were 
twittering  their  hymns  of  rejoicing,  at  the  pleasant  time,  and  appeared  more  than  half 
inclined  to  anticipate  the  season,  and  commence  their  loves  and  courtships. 

There  were  few  hearts,  perhaps,  in  that  great  city,  even  of  the  neediest  and  most  an* 

9 


194  MARMADTTKE 

happy,  but  derived  some  gratification  from  the  uncommon  beauty  of  the  weather ;  but 
there  was  one  to  which  neither  that  cause,  nor  many  others,  which  would  have  been  the 
sources  of  much  joy  to  most  men,  brought  anything  that  could  be  properly  called  pleas- 
ure,  much  less  content  or  happiness.  That  one  was  Wyvil.  Young,  handsome,  ardent, 
brilliant  of  intellect ;  endowed  with  that  nervous  temperament  whence  springs  the  keen- 
est  appetite  for  excitement ;  well  esteemed  by  his  comrades,  rapidly  rising  in  his  profes- 
Bion,  the  envied  bridegroom  of  the  richest  and  the  fairest  girl  in  Paris — Marmaduke 
Wyvil  was  not  happy  ;  and  that,  too,  on  his  bridal  morning.  Alone  he  sat  in  his  large 
chamber — alone  and  in  that  chamber,  as  he  surely  thought,  for  the  last  time.  His  morn- 
ing meal  lay  on  the  board  scarcely  touched,  although  it  had  consisted  of  the  choicest 
delicacies  of  the  French  kitchen ;  but  a  large  flask  of  Burgundy  stood  nearly  emptied 
at  his  elbow,  with  a  tall  drinking -glass  drained  to- the  very  dregs — while,  in  an  easy 
chair  beside  the  hearth,  a  rich  furred  dressing-robe  cast  carelessly  about  him,  and  his 
unstockinged  feet  thrust  into  his  embroidered  slippers,  with  a  sad,  list'ess,  wandering  ex. 
pression  in  his  eye,  and  his  whole  air  uncommonly  depressed  and  altered,  sat  the  young 
cavalier.  Several  times  during  the  morning,  his  favorite  servant  had  come  in  with  vari- 
ous articles  of  splendid  clothing,  which,  after  somewhat  ostentatiously  displaying,  as  if 
in  the  hope  to  catch  his  master's  eye,  he  had  arranged  upon  the  chairs  and  sofa.  But, 
if  such  were  his  motive,  he  had  failed  utterly — although,  in  good  sooth,  the  articles 
which  he  from  time  to  time  arranged  and  disarranged,  only,  as  it  would  appear,  for  the 
pleasure  of  arranging  them  again,  were  of  a  beauty  and  richness  that  might  have  fixed 
the  gaze  of  a  colder  and  a  wiser  man  than  the  young  soldier,  who  so  listlessly  surveyed 
them.  There  was  the  shirt  of  the  finest  cambric,  with  frills  and  ruffles  of  Mechlin  lace, 
such  as  a  duchess  now  would  envy ;  there  was  the  long  cravat,  with  its  deep  edge  of 
point  d'  Espagne ;  the  snow-white  silken  hose,  with  their  embroidered  clocks  of  silver ; 
the  hauls  de  ckausse  and  jerkin  of  white  watered  taffeta,  laid  down  upon  the  seams  with 
silver  cords ;  the  short  cloak  of  blue  velvet,  lined  with  white  satin  and  dusted  with  seed 
pearls ;  the  court  sword,  with  its  hilt,  and  sheath,  and  baldric,  all  white  to  match  the 
dress,  and  studded,  like  the  cloak,  with  pearls.  The  very  hat,  and  plume,  and  shoes, 
with  their  huge  satin  roses,  were  in  accordance  with  the  rest  of  the  habit,  and  composed 
as  magnificent  an  apparel  as  could  be  worn  by  the  most  splendid  cavalier  in  those  days 
of  profuse  expenditure  and  gorgeous  decoration.  Yet,  though  by  no  means  indisposed 
to  splendor,  or  inaccessible  to  the  vanity  of  personal  appearance ;  much  to  the  wonder 
of  his  assiduous  valet,  Wyvil  took  no  note  of  the  glittering  raiment,  nor  seemed  to  be 
aware  that  the  hours  were  passing  rapidly.  Three  different  times  Clement  addressed 
him  with  entreaties  that  he  would  suffer  him  to  arrange  his  hair,  and  that  he  would  be- 
gin  to  dress ;  but  each  time  he  was  repulsed  sharply ;  until,  at  last,  getting  quite  out  of 
patience — 

11  Well,  Master  Marmaduke,"  said  the  man,  "  I  have  been  praying  you  to  array  your- 
self  these  two  hours  and  better ;  and  there,  the  clock  of  St.  Germain  1'Auxerroia  is 
chiming  ten  of  the  morning — and  here  comes  Monsieur  de  Bellechassaigne.  Now,  if 
you  mean  to  be  married  to.day,  after  all,  you  must  needs  get  up  and  dress  you — and 
little  time  enough  left  you  to  do  it." 

And  while  he  was  yet  speaking,  a  hasty,  firm  footstep  came  up  the  staircase,  and 
the  clash  of  a  rapier  jingling  against  the  steps,  mixed  with  the  burthen  of  a  light  French 
love-song,  chanted  in  a  rich  manly  voice.  As  if  ashamed  of  his  delay,  and  not  wishing 
to  be  caught  in  so  disconsolate  a  mood,  Marmadu.ke  now  resigned  his  head  to  the  care 
of  his  experienced  valet,  enduing  at  the  same  time  his  comely  limbs  with  the  almost 
transparent  hose  which  he  had  so  neglected  till  this  moment.  Now,  however,  he  made 
some  passing  comment  on  the  fineness  of  their  texture  ;  but  it  was  all  too  late  to  appease 
the  offended  dignity  of  his  servant,  who  maintained  a  stately  silence— when  the  door 
flew  open  and  in  rushed  Bellechassaigne,  full  dressed,  as  became  the  friend  and  sup. 
porter  of  the  bridegroom. 

"  Bon  dieu !"  exclaimed  the  partisan,  as  h?.a  eye  fell  on  Wyvil ;  "  only  beginning 
now  to  drew !  Tan  thousand  thunders !  we  shall  be  all  too  late.  And,  my  life  on  it  I  if 


OR,     THE     MAID'S     REVENGE.  195 

you  are  half  a  minute  behind-hand,  the  marriage  is  at  an  end  for  ever — and  for  that 
matter,  I  should  not  wonder  if  that  old  Amadis,  Sir  Henry,  were  to  insist  on  running 
us  both  through  the  body  !" 

"  Nor  I,  upon  my  honor,"  answered  Wyvil  gloomily,  "  even  if  we  are  in  good  time. 
I  cannot  tell  wherefore  it  is — but  there  is  a  strange  shadow  over  me  this  morning,  and  I 
am  certain  some  ill  will  befall  me  before  nightfall !" 

"  Tush  !  man,  cheer  up  your  love-sick  wits  !  You,  Marmaduke  Wyvil — you  despond- 
ing !  You,  at  whose  luck  all  Paris  is  wild  with  astonishment,  and  green  with  envy !" 

"  I  wish  to  God  !  all  Paris  had  my  luck  then,"  answered  Wyvil :  "  they  are  quite 
welcome  to  it,  I  am  sure." 

"What,  in  the  devil's  name,  does  your  master  mean,  sirrah  ?"  exclaimed  Bellechas- 
saigne,  turning  short  round  upon  Clement. 

"  Master  has  been  this  way,  sir,  all  the  morning ;  but  for  my  soul,  I  cannot  divine 
wherefore ;"  answered  the  man,  shrugging  his  shoulders. 

"  You  cannot — ay  !  a  pretty  fellow  you  are  to  call  yourself  a  gentleman's  gentleman; 
God-'a'-mercy  !"  cried  the  gay  young  man,  with  a  laugh.  "So,  as  I  shall  cut  both 
your  ears  off  in  five  minutes,  if  he  is  not  better,  I  advise  you  to  bring  out  instantly  two 
flasks  of  his  very  best  champagne,  and  two  of  his  biggest  goblets— do  you  hear  ?  for  we 
must  try  to  cure  him." 

"  Yes,  sir,  I  hear ;"  replied  the  man,  without  desisting  from  his  sedulous  attention  to 
Wyyil's  flowing  curls.  "Are  you  without  there,  Peter  ?  bring  two  flasks  of  the  dry 
sillery  and  the  large  beakers  !" 

The  order  was  obeyed  immediately,  and,  twisting  the  wire  off  the  neck,  Bellechas- 
saigne  uncorked  one  bottle,  and  at  once  decanted  the  whole  of  its  creaming  contents 
into  the  two  large  beakers,  and  forcing  One  upon  Wyvil,  drained  his  own  at  a  draught. 

"  Very  passable  wine  that,  on  my  honor  ;"  said  he,  laughing.  "Ah !  you  feel  better, 
I  perceive,  already ;  there  is  a  twinkle  beginning  to  steal  into  the  corner  of  your  eye — 
by  the  time  you  have  quaffed  the  other,  you  will  be  all  right.  Oh,  none  of  your 
remonstrances  !  here,  down  with  it — it  is  not  altogether  so  very  difficult  to  swallow. 
Now  tell  me  honestly — do  not  you  think  yourself  the  most  ungrateful  dog  in  Europe,  to 
be  railing  thus  at  your  bad  fortune,  when  you  have  won  the  heart  of  the  finest  and  most 
difficult  girl  in  all  France ;  and  gained,  by  witchcraft  people  say — and  by  the  Lord  I 
half  believe  it !  her  father's  leave  to  wed  her  ?  I  wish — wish,  did  I  say  ?  I  would  give 
ten  years  of  my  life,  if  I  could  prosper  in  my  wooing — and  yet  my  sweet  little  Annette, 
God  bless  her  !  loves  me  as  truly  as  I  do  her  ;  and  her  good  father,  the  excellent  old 
Marquis  of  St.  Eloy,  affects  me  well  enough ;  and  all  would  do  very  well,  I  fancy,  if  it 
were  not  for  that  infernal  old  she-dragon — whom  for  his  own  sins,  and  mine  too  I  sup- 
pose, he  took  to  wife  when  Annette's  mother  had  been  dead  some  six  years.  Poor 
devil !  he  is  sorry  enough  for  it  now — but  little  good  that  does  me,  or  will  do  me,  unless 
she  will  make  a  stolen  match  of  it ;  and  that  she  never  will,  I  am  certain." 

By  this  time  Marmaduke — between  the  effects  of  the  wine  he  had  drank  and  his 
friend's  lively  raillery — had  partially  recovered  his  natural  character  and  spirits,  and 
began  to  talk  in  a  gay  strain,  though  it  might  be  seen  that  it  was  not  without  an  effort ; 
while  Bellechassaigne,  whose  buoyance  of  manner,  springing  from  a  free  heart  and  a 
mind  unconscious  of  any  serious  wrong,  nothing  could  check,  continued  rattling  on  in  a 
style  that  soon  delivered  Wyvil's  mind  from  the  gloomy  notions  which  had  possessed 
it  during  all  the  morning. 

"  By  heaven !"  he  said,  as  Marmaduke,  who  was  now  fully  dressed,  with  the  excep. 
tion  of  his  hat  and  short  cloak,  was  knotting  on  the  baldric  of  his  rapier — "  by  heaven ! 
that  is  an  exquisite  device — that  pure  white  suit ;  and  admirably  will  the  rich  mazarine 
blue  of  the  cloak  relieve  it.  So,  Clement,  so !  a  little  more  this  way,  more  over  the 
left  shoulder  ;  that  is  it.  Now  the  hat  and  the  gloves ;  ay !  that  is  it.  A  very  perfect 
cavalier  in  faith !  I  do  not  think  the  fair  Isabella  hath  any  right  to  complain.  Faugh  I" 
he  added,  looking  contemptuously  down  upon  his  own  gay  and  tasteful  garb — "  Faugh ! 
my  knave  tailor  has  decked  mo  out  like  one  of  your  English  Mayday  mummers,  whom 


196  MARMADTTKE     WYVIL; 

you  talk  about — and  yet,  I  thought  it  not  so  much  amiss,  before  I  saw  yours.    There  is 
something  singular,  original,  and  most  appropriate  about  that  plain  white  silk." 

"  You  do  yourself  and  your  tailor  wrong,  Bellechassaigne,"  replied  Wyvil,  smiling ; 
"  the  peach-colored  linings  of  your  trunk-hose  and  doublet  suit  admirably  well  with 
the  deep  violet ;  and  the  embroideries  of  your  cloak  and  baldrick  are,  to  my  taste,  of 
an  absolute  fancy.  Here  Clement,"  he  continued,  tossing  a  full  purse  to  the  man, 
"  divide  that  with  your  fellows,  keeping  the  lion's  share  yours  ;  and  hark  ye — when  the 
wedding's  over,  see  all  my  mails,  and  armors,  and  the  like,  removed  to  Sir  Henry 
Oswald ;  and  then  I  would  advise  you  to  come  hither,  and  get  as  drunk  as  possible 
with  all  that  is  left  in  the  cellar,  before  the  landlord  pounces  on  it.  The  furniture  I 
give  to  you,  for  yourself.  You  go  to  church  with  me." 

"  Surely,  sir,  surely,"  replied  the  servant  with  a  low  bow,  I  am  all  dressed  except  my 
coat,  and  Gregoiy  and  Peter  are  in  their  new  liveries  with  favors ;  we  will  be  ready  in 
a  moment — Sir  Henry's  coach  has  not  come  yet." 

They  had  not  long  to  wait,  however ;  for,  before  many  minutes  had  elapsed,  the  state 
coach  of  the  wealthy  baronet,  all  crimson  velvet,  and  rich  gilding,  and  plate  glass, 
drove  up  at  the  door ;  and  Marmaduke  with  his  friend  instantly  entered,  and  proceeded 
to  their  destination — with  twenty  or  more  of  their  body  servants,  gallantly  arrayed  and 
mounted,  following  close  behind.  They  were  not  long  in  reaching,  although  they 
drove  but  slowly,  the  house  of  the  English  baronet ;  before  the  door  of  which  thirty 
or  forty  carriages,  and  at  least  three  hundred  mounted  servants,  with  led  horses  for 
their  masters,  were  assembled.  A  great  crowd  had  collected,  even  before  the  arrival  of 
the  bridegroom,  and  a  still  larger  had  come  up  with  the  carriage  that  conveyed  him ;  all 
the  innumerable  loiterers  and  idlers  of  the  streets  having  fallen  into  a  sort  of  rude  pro- 
cession, partly  from  curiosity,  and  partly  in  the  hopes  of  coming  in  for  a  share  of  the 
largesse,  which  was  still  in  some  cases  distributed ;  although,  like  other  usages  of  the 
fuedal  times,  this  custom  was  fast  falling  into  desuetude.  The  persons  of  both  these 
young  officers  were  familiar  to  the  people — and  the  high  character  which  they  bore, 
as  daring  partisans,  continuedly  courting  peril,  had  rendered  them  especial  favorites  ; 
so  that  as  they  descended  from  the  vehicle,  a  loud  shout  arose  from  the  multitude,  and 
was  repeated  several  times,  even  after  they  had  passed  out  of  sight  into  the  vestibule 
of  the  mansion ;  until  a  strong  body  of  mounted  police  came  up  at  a  trot,  and  dispersed 
the  people — the  government  being,  at  that  period,  extremely  jealous  of  any  gathering 
concourse,  as  well  they  might,  from  their  experience  of  Parisian  mobs  at  the  barricades, 
and  other  tumults  of  the  Fronde. 

The  whole  suite  of  apartments  was  thrown  open,  and  many  guests  of  dignity  and 
rank  were  assembled  of  both  sexes,  to  witness  the  signing  of  the  contract,  and  partake, 
as  was  the  custom  of  the  day,  a  splendid  banquet  or  collation  previous  to  the  perform- 
ance of  the  sacred  rite,  which  was  to  render  that  contract  indissoluble ;  and  which, 
in  this  case,  was  to  take  place  in  the  magnificent  cathedral  of  Notre  Dame  de  Paris. 
Many  there  were  in  that  gay  crowd,  of  splendid  form  and  stately  presence ;  nor  did 
these  forms  lack  setting  off  by  all  that  can  be  fancied  of  sumptuous  and  rich  in  garb 
and  garniture  :  but  so  near  were  the  two  young  men,  who  now  entered  as  principals  in 
that  which  was  about  to  happen — the  bridegroom,  namely,  and  his  friend — to  the  per- 
fection of  high  manly  beauty,  that  there  was  a  brief  pause  in  the  conversation,  followed 
by  a  low  hum  of  admiration.  They  had  scarce  entered  the  saloon,  however,  and  in- 
terchanged a  few  Words  with  some  personal  acquaintances,  when  Sir  Henry  advanced 
from  an  inner  room  to  meet  them,  and  shaking  his  intended  son-in-law  cordially  by  the 
hand,  conducted  him  with  his  friend  to  the  withdrawing-room,  where  the  fair  bride 
awaited  them. 

Having  no  mother,  on  whose  care  and  tenderness  to  rely  at  this  trying  moment,  Isa- 
bella Oswald  was  supported  only  by  a  bevy  of  young  and  lovely  girls  ;  but  among  these 
were  numbered  several,  whose  names  stood  highest  among  the  high-born  daughters  of 
t  her  adopted  land  ;  yet  young  and  lovely  as  they  were,  they  only  seemed  to  act  as  foils  to 
the  superior  beauty  of  the  bride.    Whether  in  form  or  face,  it  would  be  scarcely  possible 


OR,     THE     MAID*S     REVENGE.  197 

to  fancy  anything  that  could  have  surpassed  the  splendor  of  her  whole  appearance  on 
that  eventful  morning.  All  that  at  other  times  had  seemed  objectionable  in  her  peculiar 
style,  was  so  subdued  and  softened  down,  that  no  one,  how  severely  critical  soever, 
could  have  demurred  to  her  air,  her  carriage,  or  her  aspect.  The  full  black  eyes,  that 
could  at  times  so  boldly  and  so  brightly  lighten  on  beholders,  were  now  suffused  with  a 
soft  languor,  and  half  seen  through  their  long  dark  lashes,  expressed  no  sentiments  but 
those  of  maiden  modesty,  not  all  unmixed  with  tenderness,  and  awe  at  her  new  situ, 
ation.  The  haughty  curve  of  her  imperial  mouth,  was  melted  down  to  a  slight  dimple 
— the  proud  elevation  of  her  queenly  neck  was  meekly  lowered.  All  seemed  to  betoken 
the  sweet  conscious  love,  and  gentle  bashfulness  of  a  young  happy  maiden.  Her  black 
luxuriant  ringlets  fell  down  in  a  rich  maze  on  either  side  of  her  face,  until  their  longest 
curls  rested  in  beauteous  contrast  on  her  snowy  bosom ;  but  at  the  back  of  her  head 
the  hair  was  collected  into  a  thick  classical  knot,  encircled  by  a  wreath  of  orange 
flowers,  from  which  the  bridal  veil,  of  Brussels  point,  flowed  down  in  ample  draperies 
to  her  feet.  Above  her  fair  and  regal  brow,  she  wore  a  small  tiara  of  splendid  diamonds 
in  a  rare  antique  setting,  the  gift  of  Alice  Selby ;  and  all  the  body  of  her  dress,  from 
the  downward  curve  of  her  sweet  bosom  to  the  girdle  which  encompassed  her  slender 
waist,  gleamed  like  a  cuirass  of  the  same  inestimable  gems — for  so  thickly  were  they 
strown  upon  it,  that  not  half  an  inch  of  the  material  could  be  discovered  ;  although  that 
material,  of  which  the  robe  was  formed  likewise,  was  a  superb  brocade  of  silver  and 
white  damask,  with  a  long  train  above  it  of  snow-white  velvet,  bordered  with  cloth  of 
silver,  and  looped  with  knots  of  pearl.  The  falling  sleeves  exposed  the  whole  of  her 
exquisitely  moulded  arms  and  fairy  hands,  ungloved,  and  glittering  with  the  choicest 
gerns.  She  was,  indeed,  for  beauty,  one  in  ten  thousand. 

What  wonder,  then,  that  Wyvil — fickle  and  most  impulsive  ever — should  once  again 
forget  the  less  commanding  charms  of  Alice,  and  yield  himself  a  willing  slave,  and 
dream  of  endless  bliss  in  the  possession  of  so  rare  a  being ;  when  even  Bellechassaigne, 
the  bold,  light-hearted,  reckless,  and  unimaginative  soldier  of  the  day,  was  so  deeply 
struck,  not  by  her  gorgeous  beauty  only — for  that  he  had  seen  many  a  day  unmoved 
before — but  by  the  whole  tone  and  style  of  her  subdued  and  chastened  loveliness,  that 
he  bowed  his  knee  to  her  as  he -approached,  and  hesitated,  and  was  embarrassed  like 
an  awkward,  inexperienced  youth,  on  his  first  presentation  to  some  mighty  monarch ; 
and  scarcely  could  find  words  to  express  his  sincere  congratulations  and  kind  wishes. 

Much  time,  however,  was  not  given  to  him  for  consideration ;  for  the  ceremony  of 
reading,  signing,  and  witnessing  the  marriage  contract  in  due  form,  was  instantly  com- 
menced ;  and,  as  this  duty  for  the  most  part  lay  with  him,  until  it  became  necessary  for 
the  parties  to  affix  their  signatures,  he  was  withdrawn  from  their  vicinity,  and  Marma- 
duke  eagerly  seized  the  occasion  offered  him  of  whispering  some  words  of  passion,  and 
of  tender  encouragement  into  the  ears  of  her,  whom,  for  the  moment,  he  did  really  be- 
lieve he  loved  beyond  all  others  of  her  sex.  The  time  arrived,  and  each  in  turn  took 
up  the  pen,  and  applied  it  to  that  powerful  and  binding  document.  But  here  it  was  ob- 
served by  Bellechassaigne,  that  while  the  signature  of  Isabella  was  affixed  in  a  clear, 
beautiful  Italian  hand,  perfectly  steady  and  unbroken,  the  name  of  Wyvil  was  scarcely 
legible  ;  but  feeble,  blotted,  uncertain,  and  betraying  singularly,  as  he  thought  afterwards, 
a  mind  embarrassed  and  uneasy ;  although  his  ordinary  signature  was  in  a  bold  and 
dashing  style. 

This  ceremony  finished,  the  bride  was  led  out  to  the  banqueting-room  by  her  father, 
Wyvil  giving  his  hand  to  the  first,  and  Bellechassaigne  taking  charge  of  the  second  of 
her  bride-maidens.  The  rest  followed  as  they  might — and  all  were  marshalled  to  the 
splendid  board,  and  the  feast  was  spread,  and  the  rare  wines  were  filled  out  into  brim- 
ming  bumpers,  and  toasts  were  quaffed,  and  all  was  mirth  and  joy.  But  when  that 
mirth  began  to  wax  uproarious,  and  the  attention  of  the  guests  was  diverted  somewhat 
from  the  bride,  her  father  gently  withdrew  her  from  the  table— her  bridemaids  and  a 
few  of  the  more  immediate  friends  of  the  family  rising  and  following,  with  Marmaduke 
and  Bellechassaigne,  and  handed  her  to  the  carriage  in  waiting  to  convey  them  to  the 
church. 


198  MARMADTTKE     WYVILJ 

The  lamps  were  burning  at  the  high  altar  in  the  superb  cathedral  of  Notre  Dan  e,  and 
near  it,  in  his  grand  sacerdotal  robes,  with  his  inferior  clergy  round  him,  stood  the  Aich- 
bishop  of  Paris  himself,  to  perform  the  sacred  rite,  and  administer  the  sacrament — one 
of  the  holiest  in  the  Roman  ritual.  A  few  spectators  had  assembled  in  the  body  of  the 
building ;  and,  as  is  ever  the  custom  in  Roman  Catholic  churches,  several  groups  were 
kneeling  here  and  there,  at  the  various  shrines,  quietly  and  devoutly  praying  in  their 
own  hearts,  and  observing  nothing  of  the  gay  party  that  came  up  the  chancel,  with  rust. 
ling  robes,  and  waving  plumes,  and  all  the  pomp  of  this  world's  blithest  pageantry. 
Among  the  spectators  was  a  tall  young  man,  with  a  fine  brow  and  very  intellectual  face, 
to  whom,  she  knew  not  why,  the  eyes  of  Isabella  were  attracted  as  by  a  species  of  fas- 
cination. He  was  dressed  very  plainly,  in  a  suit  of  dark  brown  velvet,  slashed  in  a  few 
places  with  black  satin,  and  embroidered  with  black  lace — a  taffeta  scarf,  of  the  same 
color  w^th  his  pourpoint,  supported  his  long  horseman's  sword,  and  he  had  boots  and 
spurs  upon  his  feet,  as  if  he  had  just  dismounted  from  his  horse.  It  was  nothing,  there- 
fore,  in  his  garb  that  riveted  Isabella's  notice,  for  that  was  nothing  but  the  habit  of  an 
ordinarv  gentleman  ;  nor,  to  say  truly,  was  it  his  personal  appearance  either ;  for,  though 
a  very  handsome  man,  he  was  not  to  compare  with  Wyvil  in  beauty  of  face  or  feature  ; 
while  his  figure,  although  perfectly  well-made  and  symmetrical,  was  more  athletic,  and 
certainly  less  graceful.  There  was,  however,  something  in  his  countenance  which  both 
attracted  and  disturbed  her — an  air  of  calm  and  majestic  dignity,  with  a  character  of 
benevolence  and  goodness  palpably  breathing  out  from  every  feature  ;  but  as  her  eye 
met  his,  she  fancied,  at  the  moment,  that  there  was  in  it  likewise  an  expressien  of  inte- 
rest and  pity  for  herself,  which  she  could  not  at  all  comprehend  or  fathom.  All  this 
passed  in  an  instant,  for  Isabella  withdrew  her  glance  as  soon  as  she  saw  that  the  stran- 
ger noticed  it ;  and  still  more  to  her  astonishment,  on  looking  round  to  Wyvil,  she  per- 
ceived that  he  also  seemed  to  recognzie  that  calm  and  grave  spectator,  and  to  be  discom- 
posed and  embarrassed  by  his  presence.  Meantime  the  services  commenced ;  and  as 
they  did  so,  a  carriage  stopped  at  the  great  door,  attended  by  one  or  two  servants  in 
liveries  of  green  and  gold.  Two  female  figures,,  one  a  lady  evidently,  and  the  other  as 
it  seemed,  a  soubrette  or  attendant,  issued  from  it ;  and  the  former,  leaning  on  the  oth- 
er's arm,  carne  up  a  side-aisle  quickly  but  silently,  to  a  spot  whence  they  could  com- 
mand a  view  of  the  proceedings — near  to  the  stranger  who  stood  there,  but  separated 
from  him  by  the  base  of  a  great  clustered  column,  which  hindered  either  party  from 
discovering  the  presence  of  the  other.  Meantime,  the  ceremony  went  on  ;  and  still, 
strange  as  it  may  appear,  the  eyes  of  Isabella,  guided  by  some  unaccountable  and  irre- 
sistible impulse,  were  drawn  furtively  toward  that  grave  spectator ;  and  still  she  saw  that 
his  clear,  passionless  glance  was  fixed  upon  her,  full  of  a  soft  compassion  ;  and  above 
all,  she  perceived  that  he  who  was  soon  to  be  her  lord  and  husband,  was  overawed  and 
crestfallen,  and  actually  trembled  under  the  observant  gaze  of  that  mysterious  person — 
and  well  he  might,  for  it  was  Henry  Chaloner  ! 

So  heavily  did  this  strange  sense  grow  on  her  mind,  with  a  dim  presentiment  of  evil, 
that  she  too  was  very  greatly  troubled  ;  and  half  repented  the  irrevocable  step  which  she 
was  taking,  and  half  began  to  wish  that  something  might  occur  to  hinder  it — a  thousand 
things  which  she  had  barely  noticed  when  they  happened,  now  coming  vividly  upon 
her  memory,  and  filling  her  with  strong  doubts  and  suspicions  as  to  the  faith  of  Wyvil. 
Still  she  mechanically  knelt,  and  rose,  and  knelt  again,  and  made  the  due  responses, 
until  she  was  yet  more  distracted  by  the  sound  of  suppressed  sobs  and  stifled  weeping, 
which  was  now  heard  by  all  the  party,  and  that  so  sensibly,  that  every  eye  was  turned 
to  the  quarter  whence  it  came.  The  service  had  now  reached  the  point  after  which 
there  can  be  no  change — no  retraction  more,  for  ever,  unless  death  shall  divide  whom 
God  hath  joined  together ;  and  the  tremendous  adjuration  was  even  now  upon  the  lips 
of  the  archbishop,  when  the  veiled  lady  sank  with  a  deep  sob  forward  on  the  pavement, 
the  black  gauze  falling  off  which  had  concealed  her  features,  and  disclosing  the  pale 
inanimate  face  of  sweet  Alice  Selby  I  and  at  the  same  time,  the  girl  who  had  accompa- 
uttered  a  piercing  shriek/  and  cried  aloud-— 


OR,     THE     MAID'S     REVENGE.  195 

"  Help  !  oh,  help  my  dear  young  lady— she  is  dying !" 

All  in  a  moment  was  confusion.  At  such  a  sight  Wyvil's  first,  truest— only  true 
passion  returned  with  all  its  ancient  force  ;  and  leaving  his  fair  bride,  forgetful  of  all 
else  but  that  dear  !  aiming  girl,  he  darted  forward  to  assist  her  whom  he  had  so  shame, 
fully  deserted,  exclaiming — 

"  Look  up  !  louk  up  once  again,  MY  Alice  !" 

But  as  he  stooped  to  raise  her,  his  shoulder  was  seized  by  a  stout  heavy  grip,  and  the 
deep  rich  voice  of  Chaloner  rang  in  his  ear — 

•'  Back,  villain !  it  is  thou  that  hast  done  this  thing !  Back,  I  say !  tempt  me  no  farther  1" 

At  this  moment  the  archbishop  closed  his  missal,  seeing  at  once  the  cause  of  what 
had  happened.  But  Wyvil,  as  he  felt  himself  thrust  firmly  backward,  remembered  him- 
self  a  little,  and  shaking  off  the  grasp  of  Henry,  said  fiercely — 

"  You  shall  answer  me  for  this,  General  Chaloner." 

"Begone!"  said  the  other,  with  an  expression  the  most  bitterly  contemptuous  ;  and 
turning  round,  he  beheld  Alice  Selby  supported  in  the  arms  of  the  noble  Isabella,  her 
face  literally  watered  with  the  burning  tears  that  fell  from  the  eyes  of  her  late  rival,  and 
covered  with  eager  kisses  from  that  fair  mouth,  no  longer  haughty  or  imperious,  but 
tender  and  affectionate  as  that  of  a  young  mother. 

"  Thanks !  gentle  lady,"  exclaimed  Chtloner — "  thanks  for  myself,  and  my  poor 
cousin  :  a  thousand  thanks  for  your  kindness.  But  suffer  me  to  bear  her  to  the  carriage. 
I  knew  not  that  she  would  come  hither,  but  fearing  that  she  might,  I  ventured  to  intrude 
upon  your  ceremonial,  which  we  have  interrupted  so  inopportunely !" 

"  So  opportunely  rather,  you  should  say,  sir  ;"  answered  Isabella,  as  she  rose  to  her 
full  height,  resigning  the  unhappy  girl  to  her  protector.  "  I  thank  God  for  it !  most 
opportunely,  in  order  to  preserve  me  from  a  fate  too  dreadful." 

At  this  moment,  Marmaduke,  who  heard  not  the  words  which  were  passing  between 
Chaloner  and  Isabella,  advanced  and  offered  her  his  hand,  as  if  to  lead  her  back  again 
toward  the  altar. 

"  No  1"  she  said,  bright  indignation  flashing  from  her  eyes,  and  her  beautiful  lips 
curling  with  utter  scorn — "  No !  sir — I  am  no  longer  blinded — I  can  see  all  now  !  Ay, 
all !  eyerything  !  Well  may  you  quail  and  cower !  Begone  !  out  of  my  sight !  begone  ! 
How  dared  you  imagine  that  Isabella  Oswald  would  brook  baseness  ?  How  dared  you 
hope  even,  that  Isabella  Oswald  would  build  up  her  happiness  upon  a  sister's  sorrow  ? 
What  fooled  you  to  the  fancy,  that  Isabella  Oswald  could  entertain  a  feeling  save  of 
disgust,  and  scorn,  and  loathing  for  a  knave  !  a  liar  !  and  a  traitor !" 

"Brave  heart!"  said  Henry  Chaloner,  looking  admiringly  on  her  fine  form,  dilated 
as  it  was  with  generous  ire,  and  her  face  glorious  with  the  best  heroisms  of  her  Sex— 
"  Brave  heart  and  noble  !  how  could  I  so  misapprehend  thee  ?"  and  with  these  words, 
he  bore  away  the  still  unconscious  girl  in  his  strong  arms  to  her  carriage — but  Isabella 
heard  him  not,  nor  paused,  but  turning  from  the  baffled  bridegroom,  continued — 

"  Your  pardon,  Lord  Archbishop  !  God,  of  his  gracious  mercy,  has  this  day  interposed 
to  save  me  from  a  doom,  to  which  the  most  abhorred  death  were  a  luxury  !  Unto  Him, 
therefore,  endless  praise  is  due  ;  and  when  I  shall  have  schooled  my  heart  by  solitude 
and  prayer,  most  gratefully  and  humbly  shall  that  praise  be  rendered.  Meantime,  my 
lord,  your  pardon !  Nay !  father,  nay !"  she  continued,  seeing  that  ingry  feelings  were 
aroused,  and  angry  words  were  bandied  to  and  fro  among  the  martial  audience — "  nay, 
father,  I  insist — Monsieur  de  Bellechassaigne,  I  do  intreat — de  Rochefort,  I  command 
you  !  This  is  my  own  deed,  my  own  ground — and  none  but  I  shall  answer  it.  Father, 
you  will  not  do  your  daughter — nor  you,  your  cousin,  de  Rochefort — so  foul  and  shame, 
ful  wrong,  as  to  make  her  the  theme  of  the  vile  world's  scurril  comments,  the  cause  of 
broil  or  duel !  Besides,  you  must  not  do  him  so  much  honor!  The  swords  of  brave  men 
are  for  the  brave  and  honorable  ;  nor  must  they  be  degraded  by  the  punishing  of  so  low 
knavery  and  treason  !  The  world's  scorn  is  the  only  whip  for  such  men,  and  to  that" — 
she  added,  casting  a  look  upon  him,  which,  if  looks  could  scathe,  would  have  consumed 
him  where  he  stood — "  to  that,  and  his  own  guilty  soul,  I  leave  him  {" 


200  MARMADITKE     WYVILJ 

"  By  St.  George !  Isabella  is  in  the  right  of  it,"  exclaimed  Sir  Henry,  "  and  I  will 
have  it  so ;  and  if  I  choose  to  overlook  this  insult  in  very  scorn  of  the  insulter,  I  think 
no  one  will  deem  it  wise  to  take  up  my  quarrel,  or  hint  that  I  know  not  what  best  to 
consult  for  mine  own  honor !" 

Not  a  word  more  was  spoken,  for  Bellechassaigne  and  de  Rochefort  bowed  in 
silence ;  and  with  a  haughty  toss  of  her  head,  shaking  off  every  thought  of  tenderness 
or  weakness,  she  swept  on,  unblighted  by  the  brief  gust  of  passion  which  had  passed 
over  her,  and  vanished  into  air — heart-whole,  and  fancy-free.  While,  with  the  agonies 
of  hell  itself  alive  at  his  heart's  core — finding  himself  shunned  equally  by  all,  forsaken 
even  by  his  stanch  friend,  Beliechassaigne,  and  loathed  by  the  very  servants  who 
attended  him ;  Marmaduke  Wyvil  threw  a  dark  mantle  over  his  wedding  bravery,  and 
hurried  back  on  foot,  sullen  and  dogged,  to  his  cheerless  home. 


CHAPTER   XXXVI. 

ISiGHT  had  already  fallen  misty  and  dim  over  the  great  city,  and  all  the  evil  things 
that  prowl  the  streets  during  the  hours  of  darkness,  were  up  and  stirring.  No  lights 
were  seen  in  those  days,  even  in  the  most  public  thoroughfares,  except  from  the  lamps 
in  the  shop-windows,  or  the  lanterns  which  hung  over  the  gates  of  the  better  man- 
sions, save  where  some  proud  hotel  or  royal  residence  cast  from  its  long  range  of  illu- 
minated casements  a  lustre,  as  of  day,  into  the  gloom  without.  At  ordinary  times,  one 
of  the  brightest  of  these  stately  palaces  was  the  Hotel  de  Gondi,  but,  on  the  night  in 
question,  all  its  fa9ade  was  steeped  in  darkness  ;  even  the  lantern  at  the  port  cochere 
had  been  left  unlighted,  in  the  great  sorrow  and  disturbance  which  had  fallen  on  the 
household  when  Alice  was  brought  home  by  Chaloner,  and  conveyed  to  the  chamber 
whence  she  was  never  more  to  issue  living.  It  was,  indeed,  not  a  little  singular,  to 
what  a  degree,  during  her  short  residence  in  Paris,  the  young  English  girl  had  won  the 
affections  of  all  who  came  within  the  sphere  of  her  attraction :  there  was  not  in  the 
Hotel  de  Gondi  a  menial,  from  the  highest  to  the  lowest,  who  did  not  mourn  as  if  about 
to  lose  a  dear  friend,  when  it  was  rumored  in  the  household  that  she  was  surely  stricken 
beyond  the  power  of  man  to  save — beyond  the  hope  of  recovery.  Yet  so,  in  truth,  it 
was ;  for,  as  is  oftentimes  the  case  with  the  terrible  disease  that  was  destroying  her,  it 
had  worked  secretly  and  silently,  sapping  and  undermining  the  very  throne  of  life, 
scarcely  suspected  until  the  last  moment.  That  morning  when  she  set  forth  to  the 
church,  though  any  eye  could  have  discovered  that  she  was  dangerously,  perhaps,  incu- 
rably ill ;  no  one  could  have  doubted  that  there  were  weeks,  perhaps  months,  or  even 
years  of  life  in  that  delicate  attenuated  frame  ;  nor,  although  well  aware  that  she  was 
dying,  had  she  herself  entertained  the  least  suspicion  that  her  hour  was  so  near  at  hand. 
But,  when  she  had  been  brought  home,  and  recovered  from  her  death-like  swoon,  it 
needed  not  the  sentence  of  the  leech  to  prepare  the  minds  of  the  beholders ;  for  the 
seal  of  approaching  dissolution  was  stamped  on  her  brow  visibly,  and  she  herself 
declared  that  she  knew  certainly,  and  felt  that  her  days  were  numbered,  and  her  hours 
fast  dwindling  into  minutes.  Much  has  been  written  to  no  purpose,  if  it  is  necessary 
now  to  say  that,  for  her,  death  had  no  terrors  ;  that  he  came  on  her,  not  in  the  guise  of 
the  cold  and  terrible  destroyer,  but  of  the  mild  consoler — the  healer  of  all  mortal  sor- 
rows— the  guide  destined  to  introduce  her  to  a  holier  and  happier  land.  Her  worldly 
business  had  been  all  arranged — she  had  no  cases  to  vex  her  parting  moments,  no  earthly 
passions,  no  strong  mortal  ties  to  render  her  pure  spirit  reluctant  to  depart ;  she  had 
lived  always  as  one  who  was  assured  that  this  night  her  soul  might  be  required  of  her, 
and  now  that  the  hour  had  arrived  for  her,  whose  coming  no  man  knoweth,  she  was 
filled  not  with  dread,  anxiety,  or  doubt,  but  with  an  humble  joy — a  confidence  of  hope 
that  rested  on  the  Rock  of  Ages.  As  soon  as  she  had  recovered  the  full  mastery  of 
her  senses,  after  the  shock  which  scattered  them  so  rudely,  she  asked  for  the  venerable 


OE,     THE    MAIDJS     REVENGE.  201 

clergyman  who  had  officiated  at  her  dear  father's  funeral ;  and  when  he  camo,  stretching 
out  her  hand,  with  a  tranquil  smile,  she  said — 

"  I  have  to  trouble  you  again,  good  Doctor  Markham,  a  little  sooner  than  I  had 
dared  to  hope.  I  have  sent  for  you  to  pray  with  me,  and  if  you  find  me  in  a  fitting 
state,  to  administer  the  holy  sacrament  before  I  go  hence." 

And,  while  he  stayed  with  her,  so  fully  satisfied  was  he  with  her  condition,  that  he 
was  wont,  so  long  as  he  lived,  to  refer  to  that  Christian  death-bed,  as,  out  of  many  terri- 
ble and  awful  scenes  which  he  had  witnessed,  the  one  which,  by  its  bright  and  tran- 
quil lustre,  sufficed  almost  to  efface  from  his  memory  the  combined  horrors  of  the  rest. 
After  about  two  hours,  during  which  she  remained  alone  with  the  good  man,  she 
requested  to  see  her  friends — Madame  de  Gondi  and  Henry  Chaloner  especially }  and  on 
their  coming,  she  told  them  in  a  few  brief  and  touching  words,  that  knowing  her  own 
hour  near  at  hand,  she  wished  that  they  should  know  it  likewise  ;  and  not  sorrow,  but 
rejoice  as  she  did. 

"  And  now,"  she  said,  when  with  a  voice  unfaltering,  and  a  clear  eye,  she  had  made  thia 
announcement ;  "  let  us  talk  pleasantly  and  calmly,  as  it  befits  friends  to  do,  who  have 
many  things  to  say  to  each  other  before  parting — one,  to  set  forth  on  a  long  and  distant 
journey  ;  the  others  to  await,  yet  awhile,  the  day  and  hour  set  for  their  departure. 
My  own  mind  is  made  up  fully  to  the  change  ;  and,  though  it  may  be  hard  to  part 
from  some  we  love,  exceeding  great  is  the  reward.  I  am  sure,  therefore,  that  you  will 
restrain  your  griefs,  that  you  may  not  disturb  that  serenity  which,  I  thank  Him  who 
gives  it,  now  reigns  in  all  my  spirit." 

Madame  de  Gondi  strove  to  speak,  but  she  could  only  press  her  hand  in  silence. 
Yet  her  tears,  though  they  could  not  be  restrained,  flowed  silently  ;  and  she  maintained, 
at  least,  an  outward  semblance  of  composure,  aided  by  the  extraordinary  self-command 
of  Alice,  and  by  the  almost  stoical  philosophy  of  Chaloner — who  begged  her  to  speak  on, 
and  tell  him  all  her  wishes,  which,  to  the  very  least,  she  might  rest  sure  should  be 
obeyed,  even  to  the  letter. 

"  First  then,"  she  said,  "  tell  me  what  passed  in  the  church,  after  I  fainted — that  one 
thing  disturbs  me — for  I  fear  I  did  wrongly  to  go  thither ;  and  that  I  have  frustrated  all 
my  schemes.  Is  it  so,  Henry  ?" 

"  Remember,  Alice,"  answered  Chaloner,  "  before  I  tell  you  anything — remember 
that  ice  can  but  propose  schemes  here,  and  that  it  is  HE  who  disposes  them,  as  it  may 
eeem  good  to  His  wisdom,  which  is  omniscience.  Remember  also,  that  from  the  fir&t 
I  disapproved  of  your  plans,  although  I  yielded  to  your  wishes." 

"  I  do  remember — I  do,"  replied  Alice.  "  Now  tell  me — in  any  event  I  shall  not 
now  repine — as  far  as  concerns  myself,  I  have  done  with  the  earth  and  its  idols." 

"  Iwill  tell  you.  When  you  fainted,  that  man,  whose  name  I  will  not  trust  myself  to 
mention,  left  his  place  by  the  side  of  Isabella,  and  rushed  toward  you,  with  words  on 
his  lips,  that  proved  to  all  who  heard  them,  that  he  had  been  in  the  very  act  of  deliberate 
perjury !  When  your  fall,  and  the  discovery  of  your  face,  saved  him  from  that  dread  con. 
summation  of  his  crimes,  the  archbishop  refused  to  proceed  with  the  ceremonial ;  and 
Isabella  Oswald  so  cast  him  off  from  her,  when  he  fain  would  have  led  her  back  to  the 
altar,  as  shows  that  her  heart  is  whole,  and  that  no  weak  regrets  will  make  her  duty 
painful." 

Alice  listened  attentively  to  every  word  he  spoke  ;  and,  as  he  ceased,  she  drew  a 
deep  breath,  and  then  paused  for  some  time,  her  lips  moving  slightly  as  if  she  syllabled 
a  prayer.  v. 

"  Amen !"  she  said  at  last;  "  His  will  be  done  '.  yet  I  had  hoped  it  might  be  other- 
wise.  What  were  the  words  he  spoke  ?" 

"  Words,  Alice,"  Chaloner  replied,  "  which  clearly  showed  that,  while  he  was  stand, 
ing  at  God's  altar  to  wed  one  woman,  his  heart  was  with  another.  He  called  you  his .' 
his  Alice !" 

A  faint  brief  flush  came  over  the  pale  face  of  the  dying  girl ;  but  like  the  summer 
lightning,  ere  you  could  say — look !  look  !  how  beautiful !  'twas  fled. 

9* 


202  MAHMADTTKE     WYVIL; 

"  Is  it  indeed  so  ?"  she  said  thoughtfully,  "  then  is  it  for  the  best ;  for  she  is  not  the 
woman  to  brook  divided  love.  Frail  creatures  !  how  frail  are  we  all,  and  easily  misled 
even  in  our  best  interests,  and  purest  motives  !  There,  in  the  wish  of  doing  good,  was  I 
near  making  one  noble  creature  wretched,  and  one  most  guilty  !  Alas  !  alas!  and  per- 
haps even  then,  when  I  thought  myself  most  passionless,  it  was  the  most  of  earthly 
passion  that  dimmed  my  mental  vision,  and  clouded  my  more  sober  reason." 

"  If  it  had  not  been  so,  dear  Alice,"  Chaloner  soothingly  replied,  "  you  had  been 
more  than  mortal." 

She  was  again  silent,  and  remained  so  for  very  many  minutes,  with  her  eyes  closed, 
and  her  hands  folded  on  her  bosom  ;  and  when  she  spoke  again,  her  voice  was  consider- 
ably weaker  than  before. 

"  It  is  gone,"  she  said,  "  it  is  past,  and  over — it  was  the  last !  Now,  let  us  speak 
of  other  things.  That  deed  is  worthless  now — and  the  will,  likewise.  Is  it  not  so  ?" 

"  Unless  you  wish  to  renew  them  without  the  conditions,"  answered  Chaloner, 
"  which  if  you  desire  it,  can  be  done." 

"  No :"  she  said,  "  I  will  not.    Have  you  the  will  here,  Henry  ?" 

"  I  thought  you  might  wish  for  it,  therefore,  I  have." 

"  That  is  well — let  me  see  you  burn  it — my  eyes  are  clear  now,  and,  I  believe,  I  see 
the  path  of  duty  straight  before  me." 

She  was  obeyed  immediately  ;  and  after  she  had  looked  at  the  document,  it  was 
consigned  to  the  flames  and  destroyed.  Then  she  requested  Hcnriette  to  bring  pens  and 
paper,  and  dictated  a  few  words,  brief  and  explicit,  bequeathing  everything  to  Chaloner, 
with  the  exception  of  the  one  legacy.  Having  herself  read  them,  she  signed  the  papej 
with  a  firm  hand,  and  having  seen  it  witnessed  by  Madame  de  Gondi  and  the  good 
clergyman,  she  handed  it  to  Chaloner,  with  these  words — 

"  May  you  enjoy  it,  as  you  will  use  it,  well — and  take  care  of  my  poor,  for  they  will 
miss  me.  I  have,  you  know,  left  everything  to  your  discretion ;  but  there  are  many 
things  that  I  will  pray  you  to  do,  as  if  I  had  named  them  in  my  will.  You  will  keep  up 
the  old  house,  Henry  ;  and  retain  all  the  old  servants,  for  rny  sake — when  they  became 
too  old,  we  even  gave  them  little  pensions,  and  if  they  wished  it,  a  small  farm  or  cot- 
tage — you  will  do  likewise.  Poor  Jeremy  is  growing  old,  likewise ;  you  will  look  to 
him.  I  have  heard  say,  that  good  John  Sherlock  would  wed  our  little  Marian  Rains, 
ford  :  if  it  be  so,  you  will  give  her  a  dowry — at  all  events,  the  Stag's  Head  rent  free,  so 
long  as  she  will  dwell  there.  I  think  she  will  not  marry.  There  are  more  things — but 
there  comes  a  faintness  over  me  at  times,  and  I  begin  to  grow  forgetful — but  your  own 
feelings  will  tell  you  what  I  would  wish  done." 

"  I  think  so.  dearest  Alice,"  he  replied ;  "  I  know  all  your  old  clients,  and  you  may 
be  quite  sure  that,  so  long  as  I  live,  they  shall  want  nothing,  but  shall  ever  find  a  friend 
and  protector  in  their  landlord  ;  and,  when  I  die,  I  will  provide  for  their  welfare." 

"  Oh  !  you  must  leave  them,  as  a  sacred  trust,  as  I  do;"  answered  she,  rallying  again 
a  little — "  as  a  sacred  trust,  to  your  son,  Henry !  For,  when  this  grief  is  over-passed, 
you  must  marry." 

But  he  shook  his  head  sadly,  and  a  grave  shadow,  as  if  of  displeasure,  settled  down 
on  his  features,  and  he  turned  his  face  to  the  wall,  and  answered  nothing. 

"  Give  me  to  drink,"  said  the  sufferer — "  give  me  to  drink,  Henriette,  I  am  athirstand 
faint.  I  would  fain  stay  a  few  minutes  longer  here,  if  so  it  may  be — I  expect  to  sec 
one  here,  anon !" 

"  Give  her  some  wine  and  water,  lady,"  said  the  clergyman  ;  "  it  cannot  hurt  her 
now,  and  may  yield  her  some  support :"  and  in  a  lower  voice  he  added,  "  whom  does 
she  think  to  see  ?" 

"No  one!"  said  Henriette,  with  great  difficulty  choking  her  tears;  "her  mind 
wanders." 

"  I  think  not,"  replied  the  good  man ;  "  I  never  saw  one  clearer,  or  more  conscious 
to  the  last — God  grant  us  all  such  death.beds  !" 

She  drank,  and  seemed  refreshed  and  strengthened ;  and,  after  lying  tranquilly  for 
*few  minutes,  Bhe  raised  herself  a  little  up,  and  said— 


OR,     THE     MAIDJS     REVENGE.  203 

"  Now,  it  will  be  a  painful  scene  for  me  to  bear,  and  you  to  witness ;  but  I  should  not 
like  to  go  hence  without  speaking  to  my  poor  English  servants,  and  bidding  them  fare, 
well.  They  might  well  think  unkindly  of  it,  if  I  were  to  leave  them  in  a  foreign 
land,  without  a  word  at  parting.  Henry,  will  you  call  my  poor  girl  Margaret,  and  the 
two  men,  Charles  and  Anthony — tell  them  to  be  as  calm  as  possible,  for  noisy  lamen- 
tation would  afflict  me." 

He  rose  at  once,  and  left  the  chamber,  and  in  a  minute  or  two  he  returned  again, 
leading  himself  the  girl  Margaret,  who  was  pale  as  death,  and  seemingly  upon  the  point 
of  fainting ;  yet  kept  her  sobs  down,  and  controlled  her  tears  wonderfully  through  the 
great  love  she  bore  her  mistress  ;  while  the  two  men — stout,  hardy  and  athletic  yeomen, 
either  of  whom  could  have  felled  an  ox  with  but  slight  effort — followed,  their  knees 
knocking  together,  and  the  big  tears  rolling  down  their  cheeks,  and  moistening  their 
close  curled  beards. 

"  I  have  sent  for  you,  my  good  friends,"  she  said,  in  a  tolerably  firm  voice  ;  "  to  take 
you  by  the  hand,  and  thank  you  for  the  good  service  you  have  done  me — and  done  better 
far  than  I — and  to  bid  you  farewell  before  I  leave  you  !  for  I  must  leave  you,  and  that 
very  shortly — I  pray  you,  Charles,  control  yourself,  or  your  grief  will  unsettle  me.  I 
am  sorry  my  friends,  to  leave  you ;  but  I  leave  you  in  kind  and  familiar  hands — for 
General  Chaloner  will  be  the  master  of  all  my  estates  ;  and,  of  his  love  for  me,  will 
provide  well  for  all  of  you  who  deserve  well  of  him  ;  and  I  doubt  not  that  will  be  all  of 
you.  God  bless  you,  my  good  friends,  and  keep  you  !  may  you  be  good  and  happy. 
And  now,  before  I  say  farewell,  I  would  pray  you,  if  ever  I  have  been  fretful,  or  over, 
urgent,  or  unkind  to  you,  as  I  have  doubtless  been  many  times,  that  you  will  forgive !" 
"  Oh,  no  !  oh,  never  !  never !"  exclaimed  all  three  at  once,  as  well  as  they  could 
speak  for  the  tears  and  sobs,  which  now  burst  out  all  uncontrollable  .  "  God  bless  you — 
God  preserve  you,  Mistress  Alice !  You  fretful  !  unkind  !  you  over-urgent !  you,  whom 
no  one  of  us,  for  all  we  have  been  greedy,  lazy,  and  unthankful  knaves,  had  ever  heard 
say  one  harsh  word  !"  cried  Charles. 

"  No !  not  unthankful,  Charles,"  said  Anthony :  "  all  else  is  true,  but  we  are  not 
unthankful !" 

"  Indeed  you  are  not,"  answered  Alice,  now  moved  herself  to  tears  ;  "  nor  lazy,  nor 
aught  else  but  true  and  honest — but  shake  hands  with  me,  and  then  say,  farewell !  for 
this  is  almost  too  much  for  me.  God  bless  you,  and  farewell !  Good  General  Henry 
will  be  soon  your  master." 

And  the  men  grasped  the  two  small  feverish  hands,  and  bedewed  them  with  their 
tears,  and  left  the  room  in  an  agony  of  grief.  Then  she  said — 

"  Kiss  me,  Margaret :  you  are  a  very  good  girl,  and  have  been  so  to  me,  ever.  I  love 
you  very  much,  and  I  thank  you  very  truly  for  all  your  goodness  ;  especially  in  these 
late  days,  since  grief  and  trouble  have  lain  heavy  on  me.  Kiss  me — farewell  !  .what- 
ever Henry  Chaloner  can  do  to  make  you  happy,  I  promise  you,  he  will  do.  Now,  if 
you  wish  to  stay  to  the  last  with  me,  sit  down  there — I  can  trust  you  to  control  yourself, 
cannot  I,  Margaret  ?" 

"  Yes,  Mistress  Alice,"  the  girl  answered,  with  a  great  effort ;  "  I  will  be  very  quiet, 
if  you  will  let  me  stay  with  you  :"  and  she  walked,  with  a  tottering  step  to  the  farther 
corner  of  the  room,  and  sitting  down,  covered  her  face  with  her  apron ;  and,  though 
her  whole  frame  shook  with  the  violence  of  her  emotions,  she  uttered  no  sound  that 
was  heard  by  Alice,  or  by  any  one  of  the  watchers.  After  this  agitating  scene,  Alice 
again  took  a  little  wine  and  water,  and  soon  afterwards  sank  into  a  calm  and  gentle 
sleep,  breathing  as  regularly  as  an  infant,  with  a  sweet  smile  on  her  lips,  and  an  expres. 
sions  almost  angelical,  pervading  all  her  features.  More  than  once,  each  of  those  who 
watched  beside  her,  stole  with  a  noiseless  step  up  to  the  pillow,  half-doubting,  so  quiet 
was  that  slumber,  whether  she  had  not  already  passed  away — but  it  was  not  so  ;  and 
after  she  had  been  asleep  above  an  hour,  and  it  was  now  drawing  near  to  morning,  a 
light  footstep  was  heard  at  the  door,  and  a  gentle  hand  touched  the  latch,  but  scerned 
afraid  to  raise  it.  Madame  de  Goudi  rose,  and  stole  to  the  door,  and  opened  it  very 


204  MARMADTTKE 

quietly — and  there,  to  the  astonishment  of  every  one,  stood  Isabella  Oswald,  in  all  her 
superb  bridal  attire,  but  with  the  trace  of  many  tears  upon  her  beautiful  cheeks. 

"  I  have  been  without,"  she  whispered,  "  these  five  hours  and  more,  and  can  no 
longer  bear  it !  Let  me  stay  here — I  will  not  disturb  you  !" 

Henriette  led  her  in  without  a  moment's  hesitation,  answering — 
"  I  am  glad  you  have  come  hither — I  think  she  wished  to  see  you,  and  had  a  sort  of 
prescient  hope  that  you  would  come  !" 

"And  is  she  indeed  dying  ?"  asked  the  agitated  girl :  "  Oh  !  but  this  is  too  fearful ! 
Never !  never  shall  I  forgive  myself !" 

"  Forgive  yourself  for  what?"  asked  Chaloner,  in  the  same  low  tone. 

"  For  having  ever  seen  him — for  having  ever  listened  to  him.  Had  I  not,  she  had 
now  been  well  and  happy." 

"  God  knows,"  said  Chaloner,  "  and  HE  only.  But  I  think  no  one  could  have  been 
happy  with  that  man ;  and  I  am  quite  sure  no  one  could  be  happier  than  she.  At  all 
events,  it  can  be  no  blame  to  you,  who  never  heard  or  dreamed  of  her  existence.  But 
hush !  hush !  she  is  waking ;"  and  as  he  said  the  words,  she  opened  her  eyes  and 
looked  around  her,  but  without  seeming  to  notice  any  one. 

"  Oh !"  she  said,  "  I  have  slept  so  sweetly,  and  heard  such  heavenly  strains,  and  seen 
such  glorious  forms — all  gold  and  azure  ;"  and  she  seemed  to  ponder  for  a  moment,  and 
then  said,  "It  was  a  dream,  but  most  delightful.  All  these  things  too,  ere  long,  will  be 
as  a  dream  likewise.  Dear  Henriette — dear  Chaloner,  I  am  very  shortly  going.  I  had 
hoped  to  see  Isabella ;  but — " 

"  I  am  here,  Alice ;"  whispered  the  lovely  girl,  rising  from  her  seat,  which  was 
screened  by  the  draperies  of  the  bed.  "  I  have  been  here  all  the  time  !"  and  kneeling 
down  beside  the  pillow,  she  buried  her  face  in  the  clothes,  and  clasping  her  friend's 
hand,  wept  bitterly. 

"  You  do  not  weep  for  me,  Isabella,"  said  Alice ;  "  or  if  you  do,  truly  you  waste  your 
tears.  I  would  not  have  it  otherwise  than  it  now  is — no !  not  for  anything  that  human 
hopes  can  compass.  I  am  happy !  perfectly  happy !  and  if  aught  was  wanting,  now 
that  you  are  here  with  me,  that  want  is  removed  ;  for  I  wished,  dearest  Isabella,  before 
I  did,  to  ask  your  pardon  for  the  pain  I  have  given  you  unwillingly.  I  meant,  indeed, 
to  do  well,  and  to  sacrifice  myself  only ;  and  lo  !  I  have  sacrificed  you." 

"Sacrificed  me  /"  cried  Isabella,  excited  beyond  all  control.  "  Say,  rescued  me! 
say,  saved  me  from  perdition !  If  you  had  not  done  as  you  have,  I  should  have  either 
pined  for  his  love,  and  so  been  wretched  ;  or  wedded  him,  and  perished  !  Pardon  me, 
pardon  me,  Alice ;  my  feelings  are  too  strong  for  me.  Oh  God  !  oh  God !  what  have 
I  done,  that  this  burthen  of  your  death  should  rest  upon  me  ?  Youi  whom  I  saw  so 
fresh  and  lovely,  not  six  weeks  gone,  entering  the  gates  of  Paris — you,  whom  I  now 
see  dying !"  and  with  the  words  she  burst  into  a  fit  of  violent  and  agonizing  sorrow,  so 
loud  and  convulsive  that  the  old  clergyman  arose,  and  signing  to  the  others  to  sit  still, 
half  led,  half  lifted  her  out  of  the  chamber — but  Alice  looked  at  Chaloner,  and  said — 

"  Is  she  not  noble — is  she  not  noble  ?" 

"  Yes !"  he  replied  ;  "  very  noble !" 

"  And  so  are  you,"  she  answered  very  quickly,  as  if  afraid  that  he  would  interrupt 
her.  "  You  two  are  the  two  noblest  beings  on  the  face  of  the  earth.  The  noble  should 
mate  with  the  noble — she  in  her  great  brave  impulses ;  you  in  your  grand  composure  ! 
Nay,  do  not  interrupt  me,  Henry,  nor  shake  your  head  so  sadly.  I  do  not  say  now,  nor 
to-morrow,  but  when  this  sorrow  shall  have  passed  away.  It  is  my  last  wish — my  last 
earthly  hope  1  I  know  she  would  make  you  happy — I  know  I  would  rather  see  her 
mistress  of  my  Woolverton  than  any  woman  living.  There,  do  not  answer  me.  Forgive 
me  if  I  have  hurt  you — think  of  it,  and  Heaven  bless  you !" 

Chaloner  did  not  answer  her,  but  he  sat  and  mused  deeply ;  and  though,  at  the  time, 
he  thought  of  it  as  a  wild  fancy,  and  impossible,  years  brought  to  pass  a  change  in  his 
feelings.  Alice,  whose  strength  had  been  failing  rapidly,  was  quite  exhausted  by  the 
vehemence  of  her  own  late  utterance  ;  and,  feeling  that  she  was  almost  gone,  cried— 


OR,     THE     MAID'S     REVENGE*  205 

"  Henriette,  Henrietta — come  to  me  quick— quick !  quick '"  and  as  she  came,  she 
drew  her  down  close  to  her  bosom,  and  kissed  her  eyes  and  lips.  "  Thank  you,"  she 
said — "may  God  deal  with  you  as  you  have  dealt  with  us !  Bless*you — farewell !  Now, 
Henry,  kiss  me — dear,  dearest  Henry!  and  Isabella — call  her — where  is  Isabella?" 

"Here,"  she  replied,  as,  having  calmed  herself,  she  again  returned — "I  am  here, 
Alice." 

"  Where — where  ?  I  do  not  see  you — my  eyes  are  growing  dim — your  faces  all  are 
leaving  me  !  Where  are  you,  Isabella  ?" 

"  Here,  dearest,"  she  replied,  taking  her  by  the  hand ;  "  do  you  not  feel  me  ?" 

"  Yes ;  kiss  me ;"  and  as  she  stooped  to  do  so,  she  tried  to  whisper,  but  spoke  quite 
loud,  for  her  numbed  ear  had  lost  its  sense  :  "  If  ever  he  ask  aught  of  you,  for  my  sake 
grant  it,  Isabella." 

The  beautiful  girl  had  no  clue  whereby  to  guess  her  meaning,  and  fancied  that  her 
mind  was  wandering,  and  that  she  thought  of  Wyvil ;  she  made  therefore  no  reply,  but 
pressed  her  hand  in  silence.  Alice  sank  back  at  once  upon  the  pillow;  and  though  for 
nearly  half  an  hour  she  continued  to  breathe,  she  did  not  speak,  or  move,  or  unclose  her 
eyes  any  more — till  suddenly  she  sat  erect,  and  looking  upward  with  a  sublime  and  rapt 
expression,  cried  out  in  a  clear  and  musical  voice  :  "  Hush !  listen !  Do  you  not  hear 
the  harp  and  the  seraphic  strains  ?  Glory — glory  be  to  God  in  the  highest !  Hush ! 
hush!"  and  with  her  arms  extended,  and  her  eyes  radiant  with  a  vision  that,  perhaps, 
in  that  dread  moment,  pierced  into  realms  beyond  mortality,  her  pure  soul  passed  away, 
and  the  old  clergyman  saw  that  she  was  no  more ;  and  as  she  fell  down  on  the  bed,  he 
said  in  a  high,  sonorous  tone,  as  if  of  triumph,  "  I  heard  a  voice  from  heaven,  saying 
unto  me,  Write  :  from  henceforth  blessed  are  the  dead  who  die  irr  the  Lord ;  even  so 
saith  the  Spirit,  for  they  rest  from  their  labors." 


CHAPTER   XXXVII. 

THE  morning  had  already  broken,  when  Alice  Selby  passed  into  another  world  ;  and 
the  cold  gray  light  of  the  early  dawn  was  mingled  in  the  chamber  of  the  dead  with  that 
of  the  waning  lamps,  which  had  burned  all  night  long  unheeded ;  and  pale  and  haggard 
with  the  excitement  and  the  agitation  of  those  trying  scenes,  were  the  countenances  of 
the  weary  watchers,  and  their  hearts  faint  with  care  and  sorrow.  But  now,  when  all 
was  over,  they  withdrew — the  women  to  seek  some  repose,  for  they  were  absolutely 
wearied  out;  and  Chaloner  to  brood  over  the  things  that  had  passed,  and  to  devour  his 
own  heart  in  silence.  For,  self-subdued  though  he  was,  by  a  habit  which  had  grown 
upon  him  until  it  was  now  almost  a  second  nature,  his  character  had  been  originally 
fiery  and  vehement,  and  prone  to  bursts  of  sudden  passion  ;  and  it  had  cost  him  no  small 
labor  or  exertion  to  bring  his  temper  under  subjection  to  his  reason.  It  was  not  his 
passions  only  against  which  he  had  at  this  time  to  contend,  although  there  was  very 
much  tq  excite  these  in  what  had  taken  place,  in  the  villainous,  and,  as  he  believed, 
cold-blooded  treachery  of  Wyvil,  by  which  the  man  he  most  esteemed  in  the  world, 
and  the  only  woman  he  had  ever  loved,  had  been  brought,  almost  before  his  very  eyes, 
the  one  to  an  unnatural,  the  other  to  a  most  cruel  and  untimely  death  ;  and  many  times 
his  spirit  had  been  strangely  tempted  to  inflict  summary  and  instant  punishment  upon 
the  traitor.  But  this  was  not  all ;  for  although  Henry  Chaloner  was  by  no  means  a 
fanatic,  nor,  in  embracing  the  political  creed  of  the  Puritans,  had  adopted  their  intole- 
erant  and  bigoted  religious  tenets,  it  must  be  remembered  that  a  species  of  wild  super- 
stition  was  a  strong  characteristic  of  the  age,  the  country,  and  especially  of  the  faction 
to  which  he  was  attached.  His  own  mind  was  naturally  of  an  imaginative  turn ;  and 
how  excellent  soever,  as  related  to  fine  arts  and  poetry,  imagination  may  be  deemed, 
it  is  assuredly,  when  applied  to  religious  matters,  the  most  deceitful  and  dangerous  of 
attributes.  Thus,  though  by  no  means  a  fanatic,  neither  a  bigot  nor  a  canter — neither 


206  MARMADTTKE     WYVILJ 

deluded  by  the  jargon  of  the  day  nor  a  deluder  of  others,  he  had  imbibed  some  strange 
sentiments,  and  pondered  over  them  till  they  had  almost  become  opinions.  No  char- 
acter  of  mortal  man  can  be  perfect,  and  this  was  the  darkest  blot  on  Chaloner's :  a 
fancy  had  possessed  his  mind,  long  before  the  occurrence  of  the  events  which  seemed 
to  stir  that  fancy  into  action,  that  men,  their  passions,  and  their  very  crimes,  were  in- 
struments of  the  Almighty  to  punish  the  faults  and  avenge  the  sufferings  of  others ; 
and  farther,  that  there  was  a  species  of  dark  inspiration,  a  divine  destiny,  inborn  and 
felt  within,  compelling  him  who  was  its  subject  to  the  performance  of.  whatever  it  sug- 
gested. In  his  more  calm  and  reasonable  moments,  when  no  extraneous  influence 
was  brought  to  bear  upon  this  perilous  creed,  he  was  wont  half  to  doubt  the  nature 
of  this  inspiration,  and  altogether  to  dispute,  if  not  deny,  its  operation  as  justifying  the 
deeds  of  the  individual.  But  now,  with  his  passions  all  excited  to  the  utmost,  and  all 
bearing  with  concentrated  power  upon  this  weak  point  in  his  judgment,  he  was  fear- 
fully disturbed,  and  strongly  goaded  forward  to  the  perpetration  of  a  deed  which,  had 
he  been  one  whit  less  strong  in  his  religious  creed,  he  would  have  surely  considered  it 
his  bounden  duty  to  perform — the  avenging,  namely,  with  the  sword  the  deaths  of  his 
friends  and  kindred.  That  was  an  age  when  the  duel  was  resorted  to  on  the  most 
slight  and  trivial  grounds — when  no  honorable  man  of  the  world  would  have  dreamed 
for  an  instant  of  omitting  to  call  out  a  rival,  on  the  most  venial  provocation,  to  the  arbi- 
trament of  blood — when  no  man  whatever,  unless  a  cripple  or  infirm  by  years,  would 
have  admitted  the  possibility  of  refusing  such  an  invitation. 

Not  one  of  these,  however,  was  Henry  Chaloner — his  notions  of  religious  duty  were 
by  far  too  severe,  his  mind  too  firmly  balanced,  and  his  whole  character  too  strictly  con- 
scientious, to  be  deterred  from  doing  that  which  he  considered  right,  or  to  be  led  into 
doing  that  which  he  thought  wrong,  by  all  the  sophistry  of  the  world  united.  Wronging 
or  insulting  none,  there  was  no  risk  that  he  should  ever  be  called  to  account  himself ; 
and  proved  as  he  was  to  be  the  bravest  of  the  brave — tried  in  some  six  pitched  battles, 
and  skirmishes  almost  innumerable — bearing  the  scars  of  eight  wounds  on  his  body,  he 
well  could  afford  to  overlook  the  arrogance  of  hopping  courtiers,  or  the  presumption  of 
boy-braggarts — and  many  a  time  he  had  done  so  ;  and,  for  a  wonder  !  the  world's  opin- 
ion had  sustained  him :  and  though  he  had  treated  with  scorn  only,  more  than  one 
petty  insult,  suffering  the  authors  to  creep  off  unpunished — not  a  doubt,  not  the  shadow 
of  a  shade  hung  over  Chaloner's  unblemished  courage.  This  was  a  different  case, 
however,  and  far  different  did  it  work  on  his  strong  mind — strong  even  in  its  weakness. 
He  had  seen  his  dear  friend,  the  man  to  whom  he  had  ever  looked  up  as  his  father, 
slain  almost  by  the  hand,  indisputably  by  the  deed,  of  this  base  person ;  whose  treachery 
had  blighted  also  the  best  and  brightest  hopes  of  his  existence.  He  saw  the  murderer 
of  both — escaped,  at  large,  beyond  the  reach  of  any  earthly  punishment !  His  morbid 
fancy  pictured  him,  perchance,  laughing  in  his  secret  soul  over  the  ruin  he  had  wrought ; 
and  making  mockery,  with  his  wild  companions,  of  her  whom  he  had  slaughtered  by 
the  sword  of  her  own  best  affections.  He  set  his  teeth  hard,  as  the  thought  occurred, 
to  him ;  and  walked,  grasping  his  sword-hilt,  to  and  fro  the  room  in  fearful  perturbation. 
For,  although  when  conversing  with  Madame  de  Gondi,  his  clear  mind  had  rejected 
the  idea  as  absurd,  of  judging  mortal  happiness  by  the  scale  of  mortal  success  ;  although 
he  could  then  distinctly  see  that  this  same  man,  this  very  Wyvil,  must  of  necessity  be 
wretched  even  here ;  he  could  no  longer  satisfy  himself  with  the  same  reasoning — he 
could  no  longer  obtain  the  same  end.  Wyvil  seemed  to  him  now  the  proud,  triumphant 
and  exulting  villain — the  wretch  escaped  from  all  the  whips  of  justice,  beyond  all  reach 
of  mortal  punishment.  His  mind  was  clear  no  longer — the  cloud  of  passion  had  dim- 
med  its  perception  ;  and  through  that  cloud,  loomed  up  gigantically  the  monstrous  com- 
binations of  fantasy  and  superstition. 

All  that  day  long  he  fasted — no  food  had  passed  his  lips  since  breakfast,  on  the  pre- 
vious morning,  nor  any  drink  save  water ;  nor  had  he  closed  his  eyes  in  sleep — but 
without  sitting,  or  even  pausing,  he  walked  up  and  down  the  floor,  with  uneven  and 
irregular  steps,  lashing  himself— while  he  believed  even  that  he  was  pondering  gravely— 


OR,     THE    MAID'S    REVENGE.  207 

into  a  species  of  solemn  fury.  The  shadows  changed  upon  the  dial,  and  noon  succeeded 
morning,  and  the  evening  twilight  darkened  upon  the  afternoon ;  and  still  he  strode 
backward  and  forward,  the  rafters  cracking  under  his  heavy  foot,  and  the  old  servants, 
who  had  never  witnessed  such  a  move  before  since  they  had  served  him,  marvelling 
what  should  next  be.  Watching,  and  fasting,  and  the  terrible  excitement,  when  added 
to  the  agony  of  grief,  had  for  the  time  completely  overmastered  him.  His  better  mind 
was  utterly  obscured  and  hidden.  He  had  at  first  striven,  and  for  a  little  while  sue. 
cessfully,  with  the  dark  fantasy  that  crept  upon  him,  whispering  that  he  was  the  chosen 
instrument,  appointed  from  above,  to  wreak  the  vengeance  of  the  Lord  upon  the  secret 
criminal.  Had  there  been  any  human  voice  to  speak  to  him,  to  back  the  small  still  voice 
within — which,  though  half  drowned  by  the  trumpet-tongued  suggestions  of  pride,  and 
wrath,  and  superstition,  and  the  overwhelming  sense  of  wrong,  still  feebly  warned  him — 
he  had  come  off  victorious !  As  it  was,  more  and  more  as  hour  succeeded  hour,  and 
darkness  came  at  last  to  add  its  gloomy  influence  to  the  sad  colors  that  already  steeped 
his  soul,  the  heavy  superstition  grew  upon  him,  till  he  convinced  himself  at  last — sad 
truth  1  that  it  should  be  so  easy,  even  for  a  good  man,  to  convince  himself  that  wrong 
is  right,  and  passion  principle — till  he  convinced  himself  at  last  that  it  was  a  solemn 
and  a  holy  duty,  enjoined  upon  him  by  a  supernatural  will,  which  he  had  neither  right 
nor  power  to  resist ;  to  call  this  murderer  forth  to  the  field  of  arms,  and  there  to  slay 
him  as  a  great  sin-offering  and  sacrifice. 

It  may  seem  strange,  that  a  mind  so  well  balanced  as  that  which  I  have  represented 
Chaloner  to  possess,  should  have  been  mastered  by  so  vain  and  absurd  a  superstition. 
But  we  must  recollect,  that  the  age  wherein  these  things  occurred  was  an  age  of  ano- 
malies and  wonders ;  that  men  and  women — wise  men  and  virtuous  women  !  in  those 
days  did  things,  undoubtingly,  unblushingly,  which  now  would  stamp  them  fools  and  har- 
lots ;  that  mortal  passions  had  the  widest  scope,  and  common  sense  and  reason  the  least 
sway ;  that  fifty  things  were  admitted  and  believed  as  truths,  which  the  wisest  schoolboy 
of  the  seventeenth  century  could  prove  to  be  fallacies ;  and,  above  all,  that  the  minds  of 
men  were  greatly  agitated  and  disturbed  on  matters  both  of  politics  and  religion,  as 
generally  is  the  case  in  the  commencement  of  what  may  be  termed  an  era  of  transition. 
That  Henry  Chaloner  was  a  wise  man  and  a  good  man,  according  to  the  wisdom  and 
the  virtue  of  the  day  in  which  he  lived,  is  an  unquestionable  truth ;  but  he  was  neither 
better  nor  wiser  than  the  best  of  the  children  of  his  generation.  He  was  not  that  mon- 
ster of  a  poetic  fancy,  a  being  of  unerring  instincts,  and  unblemished  virtue.  Many 
things  combined  to  bring  about  this  hallucination — for  it  was  clearly  an  hallucination, 
and  one  of  a  very  dangerous  character ;  and  had  it  been  indulged,  or  carried  much 
beyond  the  point  which  it  had  now  attained,  it  speedily  might  have  degenerated  into 
a  religious  frenzy — but  that  they  did  so  combine  is  certain.  At  many  moments  of  his 
life,  he  would  unquestionably  have  denounced  the  very  part  which  he  was  about  to  play, 
as  the  highest  insanity,  or  laughed  at  as  the  height  of  folly.  Nevertheless,  he  now  yielded 
to  the  impulses  that  were  hot  within  him ;  and,  fancying  himself  the  instrument  of  a 
great  superior  will,  became  the  dupe  and  tool  of  his  own  little  passions.  He  had  prayed 
several  times  in  the  course  of  the  day ;  and  to  his  fervid  and  imaginative  temperament, 
the  very  act  of  prayer,  by  stimulating  the  religious  sentiment,  had  increased  rather  than 
diminished  the  morbid  action  of  his  mind,  and  rendered  him  more  confident  in  the  right 
— more  resolute  to  the  performance  of  his  self-imposed  solemn  duty.  And  now,  that  his 
determination  was  once  taken,  all  the  disturbance  and  anxiety  of  his  manner  vanished. 
He  washed  and  dressed  himself  with  care,  arranging  his  locks,  which  he  wore  long  and 
waving,  though  not  exactly  after  the  curled  and  flowing  fashion  of  the  cavaliers, with  much 
attention ;  clad  himself  in  a  full  suit  of  the  deepest  mourning,  black  broadcloth  faced  with 
silk,  with  neither  velvet  nor  embroidery  nor  lace,  but  only  a  broad  band  of  cambric  round 
his  neck,  and  plain  ruffles  of  the  same  at  his  wrists  ;  and  summoning  Frank  Norman,  de- 
sired him  to  be  in  attendance  in  an  hour  with  three  horses  and  another  servant.  Then 
he  caused  supper  to  be  served ;  and,  although  alone,  he  sat  down  to  his  meat  with 
a  good  appetite,  and  ate,  and  drank  his  wine — more  than  or>e  kind  of  which  was  set 


208  MARMADTTKE    WYVfLJ 

before  him,  with  evident  appreciation.  He  even  spoke  a  few  words  cheerfully  to  the 
old  steward  who  attended  him,  saying  that  he  had  resigned  his  office,  as  envoy  to  the 
Hague,  and  should  return  to  England  within  a  few  days,  more  or  less.  With  him,  the 
strife  was  to  make  up  his  mind — the  anxiety,  to  decipher  the  right  law  of  conduct;  that 
once  done,  all  else  was  a  mere  thing  of  course.  No  weak  irresolution  ever  marred  his 
action — no  paltry  fear  of  consequences,  or  doubt  of  results,  so  much  as  once  occurred 
to  him.  Resolved  to  do  a  thing,  he  ever  went  right  on  and  did  it!  and  that  had  been 
the  one  great  secret  of  his  success  in  life — that,  acting  ever  upon  principles  which  he 
knew,  or  conscientiously  believed  to  be  right  and  true,  he  always  brought  a  clear  head, 
unencumbered  by  any  doubt  or  hesitancy,  to  the  execution ;  and  while  other  men  were 
planning,  he  was  doing.  Thus,  in  the  present  instance,  though  it  cost  him  much  anxiety 
and  thought  before  he  could  resolve  upon  his  principle  of  conduct,  and  though  it  must 
be  admitted  that  he  had  reasoned  himself  Into  a  false  conviction  and  an  evil  resolution  ; 
yet  once  determined,  he  never  cast  another  thought  to  the  execution  !  It  never  once  so 
much  as  entered  his  mind,  that  Wyvil,  whom  he  knew  to  be  a  brave  man  and  a  master 
of  his  weapon,  might  chance  to  be  the  victor.  It  never  appeared  possible  to  him  that 
he  could  fail !  He  was  the  destined  and  appointed  instrument,  the  unconcerned  avenger 
of  his  kindred,  the  weapon  in  the  hands  of  the  Almighty !  He  had  no  wrath,  no  angry 
feelings  against  the  wretch  whom  he  was  about  to  slay  as  a  sacrifice,  not  to  the  vain 
punctilio  of  a  code,  but  to  a  jealous  God !  Nay :  at  that  very  moment  he  would  have 
unsheathed  his  sword  to  rescue  him  from  peril  at  any  other  hand — he  would  have  braved 
the  fiery  conflagration,  or  rushed  into  the  molten  torrent,  to  save  his  life  this  minute, 
that  he  himself  might  take  in  the  next.  Had  he  been  one  iota  more  a  fanatic,  or  less 
a  gentleman  and  soldier,  he  would  have  stabbed  him  to  the  heart,  and  deemed  assassi- 
nation virtue !  As  it  was,  such  an  idea  came  not  near  him,  nor  any  other,  except  to 
call  him  to  the  field  with  equal  arms,  and  slay  him  there  in  solemn  combat.  And,  with 
that  end  in  view,  he  took  the  measure  of  his  sword  with  a  strip  of  paper,  and  when  his 
horses  were  announced,  buckled  his  riding-cloak  about  him,  and  went  forth  as  tranquilly 
to  meet  his  mortal  foe  as  if  he  had  been  preparing  for  a  banquet. 


CHAPTER    XXXVIII. 

A  MAN,  more  thoroughly  and  utterly  wretched  than  Marmaduke  Wyvil,  existed  not 
perhaps  on  the  whole  face  of  the  world,  peopled  although  it  is  with  wretches.  There 
was  not  in  his  heart  one  spark  of  consolation,  one  gleam  of  hope  ;  not  even  that  last 
stay  and  resource  of  the  miserable — the  consciousness  of  right,  the  sense  of  self-respect. 
His  schemes  had  failed,  deep  laid  as  they  appeared,  even  in  the  moment  of  their  con- 
summation!  He  was  completely  ruined!  and,  to  his  own  soul  he  could  not  deny  it, 
ruined  entirely  by  his  own  knavery  and  folly !  He  had  destroyed  the  man  who  had 
preserved  his  own  life,  at  the  risk  of  all  most  dear  to  him !  for,  though  he  knew  not  all 
the  circumstances  of  Mark  Selby's  death,  and  though  he  strove  to  palliate  it  to  his  own 
accusing  conscience,  he  was  yet  perfectly  aware  that  he  was  the  cause  of  his  decease. 
He  had  broken  the  heart  of  the  Woman  he  loved  best,  and  to  whom  he  owed  the  deep- 
est gratitude  ;  who  loved  him  with  a  love  almost  surpassing  that  of  woman ;  who  might 
— who  would  have  rendered  him  the  happiest  of  men,  but  for  his  own  inconstancy  and 
treasonable  falsehood  !  He  knew  not,  it  is  true,  that  she  was  dead  ;  but,  like  all  others 
who  beheld  her  fainting  in  the  cathedral,  he  had  seen  that  the  seal  of  death  was  on  her 
brow  already ;  and,  had  he  not  seen  it,  he  felt  but  too  surely,  amid  the  dread  condem- 
nation of  his  own  inner  heart,  that  Alice  Selby  was  a  plant  of  too  frail  growth,  and  of 
too  slight  a  tenure  on  this  mortal  soil,  to  endure  such  a  shock,  so  rude  and  sudden  as 
that  which  he  had  given  to  her  moot  vital  sensibilities !  And  what  had  been  the  conse- 
quence of  all  this  crime  and  falsehood  ?  what,  but  the  very  demolition  of  all  his  own 
hopes  and  prospects  ?  This  present  means  all  lost  already ;  his  chances  of  recovering 
them  in  France,  ox  of  returning  home  with  honor — either  of  which  alternative  was  in 


OR,   THE   MAID'S   HEVENGS.  209 

his  reach  three  little  days  ago — cast  to  the  winds !  His  very  reputation  questioned  !  his 
name  for  chivalry  and  honor  blighted !  It  might  have  been,  had  success  crowned  his 
wickedness,  had  he  gained  by  his  treason  the  lovely  bride  and  the  vast  wealth  for  which 
he  had  played  so  foully — it  might  have  been  then,  in  the  exultation  of  his  retrieved  for- 
tunes, the  fruition  of  present  pleasure,  and  the  anticipation  of  a  proud  and  ambitious 
future;  that  he  could  hivve  drowned  the  voice  of  conscience,  have  blotted  from  his  mem. 
ory  the  thoughts  of  thoss  who  had  so  nobly  succored  him  in  his  hour  of  need,  and  whom 
he  had  so  repaid. 

But  now,  when  everything  was  lost — when,  pressed  and  persecuted  by  his  creditors, 
forsaken  by  all  those  who  had  consorted  with  him  in  his  better  days,  looked  upon  coldly 
by  the  king,  scorned  and  despised  by  those  who  would,  a  week  before,  have  courted 
him — the  memory  of  his  past  sins,  enhanced  by  his  present  misery,  was  constantly  before 
him ;  conjuring  up  dread  remorseful  phantoms,  that  threw  a  fixed  and  moody  gloom,  not 
far  removed  from  settled  melancholy,  alike  over  his  waking  and  his  sleeping  hours. 
He  had  not  left  his  apartment,  and  in  truth  he  dared  not  leave  it,  since  the  moment 
when  he  hurried  homeward,  baffled  and  despairing,  from  the  very  ceremonial  to  which 
he  had  so  long  looked  forward  as  to  the  consummation  of  his  triumph.  His  servants, 
all  recent  hirelings,  except  thu  valet  Clement,  and  his  groom,  a  Yorkshireman  from  the 
north-riding — for  both  whom  lie  had  sent  to  England  immediately  after  his  arrival  in 
Paris — had  deserted  him  so  soon  as  they  discovered  that  his  fortunes  were  no  more  in 
the  ascendant ;  and  these  two  remained  stanch  to  their  employer,  from  ancient  habit, 
and  from  a  downright  instinctive  fidelity — more  like  that  of  the  canine  species  than  of 
the  human  race — which  rendered  them  reluctant  to  desert  a  falling  man,  rather  than 
from  any  real  love  or  esteem  for  a  master,  whose  faults  were  tainted  with  that  mean  and 
truckling  falsehood  so  odious  to  the  English  character.  His  doors  had  been  besieged  by 
angry  and  impatient  creditors  ;  and  he  had  passed  the  night  following  that  fatal  cere- 
monial,  and  the  day  which  succeeded  it,  in  an  alternation  of  despondent  fits,  and  violent 
bursts  of  nervous  irritable  restlessness,  that  bordered  closely  upon  downright  madness — 
now  sitting  with  his  head  propped  upon  his  hands,  gazing  before  him  into  vacancy,  with 
a  dim,  lack-lustre  eye,  as  though  the  atmosphere  were  peopled  with  dread  forms,  for  ever 
present — now  hunying  to  and  fro  the  spacious  room,  raving  aloud,  and  uttering  strange 
imprecations ;  till,  worn  out  and  exhausted  by  his  own  violence,  he  would  again  sink 
down  into  his  chair  and  resume  his  moody  meditations.  His  meals  had  been  prepared 
for  him  with  sedulous  care,  by  his  faithful  servant,  who  had  ventured  even  to  press  him 
to  his  meat,  and  to  argue  with  him  on  the  foolishness  of  such  impotent  and  child-like 
passion.  But  it  was  all  in  vain — the  man's  remonstrances  were  receive^  either  witii  an 
apathy  that  left  it  doubtful  whether  he  comprehended  what  was  said  to  him,  or  with  re- 
joinders so  impatient  and  ill-tempered,  that  they  soon  quieted  all  interference.  He  had, 
it  is  true,  tried  to  force  his  appetite — had  compelled  himself  to  swallow  one  or  two  mor- 
sels— but  the  meat  would  not  go  down  !  and  the  man,  who  had  often  devoured  with  zest 
and  real  appetite  a  hard  crust  of  bread,  washed  down  with  wretched  brandy,  while 
within  point-blank  range  of  hostile  cannon-shot — which,  although  falling  thick  around 
him,  had  not  the  power  to  spoil  his  stomach — now  loathed  the  most  delicious  consom- 
mes and  ragouts,  cowed  and  disheartened  by  the  creatures  of  his  own  conscience. 
But  in  proportion  as  he  felt  no  hunger,  so  had  a  fiery  and  incessant  thirst  tormented 
him ;  and  though  he  had  drunk  vastly  more  of  the  strongest  and  most  generous  wines, 
than  at  another  time  would  have  sufficed  to  lay  him  senseless,  the  liquor  seemed  to  pos- 
sess no  power  at  all  upon  his  system,  so  thoroughly  was  its  effects  superseded  by  the 
terrific  and  unnatural  excitement  of  his  brain  and  nerves. 

It  was  a  cold,  raw,  gusty  evening,  and  a  fire  had  been  burning  on  the  hearth  all  day  ; 
but  it  had  for  some  time  become  very  low,  and  only  a  few  half-dying  embers  cast  a  red 
waning  light  over  the  deep  jaws  of  the  large  arched  chimney.  The  evening  had  set  in 
quite  darkly,  and  it  was  growing  very  cold  ;  yet  so  great  was  the  heat  and  fire  within 
him,  that  when  Clement  brought  lights,  and  would  have  replenished  the  fire,  Wyvil  in- 
sisted that  the  room  was  stifling  hot,  and  the  air  thick  and  murky ;  and  positively  forbade 
his  heaping  on  the  wood  which  he  had  fetched  for  that  purpose.  The  man  shrugged  up 


5lO  MARMADUKE     WYV1LJ 

his  shoulders,  but  said  nothing ;  and  continued  fidgeting  about  the  room  for  some  time, 
as  if  unwilling  to  leave  Marmaduke  alone  in  that  fearful  mood — lowering  the  heavy  cur- 
tains over  the  long  windows,  which  reached  qui'e  down  to  the  floor,  opening  with  case- 
ments  upon  the  narrow  ledge  of  projecting  stone-work,  unguardod  by  any  balcony  or 
balustrade — setting  the  chairs  in  order,  and  arranging  the  various  articles  which  lay 
scattered  on  the  tables,  until  a  sharp  and  peremptory  order  forced  him,  although  evidently 
anxious  and  unwilling,  to  quit  the  apartment.  As  soon  as  he  had  shut  the  door,  Wyvil 
arose  from  his  chair  again,  and  began  traversing  the  room  with  a  fretful,  hasty  gait,  not 
unlike  that  of  the  caged  hyena ;  muttering  the  while  about  the  heat  and  closeness  of  the 
air;  gasping  as  if  for  breath,  and  pausing  more  than  once  to  drain  a  goblet  of  the  racy 
Burgundy,  which  stood  on  the  table.  At  last  he  stopped  'oefore  the  window  farthest 
from  the  hearth,  and  pushing  back  the  curtain,  threw  the  tail  casement  open,  and  then 
etood  for  some  minutes  gazing  out  into  the  quiet  night ;  for  the  weather  was  so  unprom- 
ising and  cheerless  that  the  streets  were  almost  deserted,  and  so  few  sounds  were  abroad, 
that  from  the  ear  alone  it  would  have  been  difficult  to  imagine  that  he  was  in  the  heart 
of  a  great  city. 

"Ay!"  he  said,  "this  is  calm — this  is  refreshing — the  cool,  tranquil  night  air! 
That  closed  room's  atmosphere  is  like  the  vapor  of  ;i  seven-times  heated  furnace. 
Strange  that  the  air  should  be  so  sultry  in  November!  Yet  it  may  be,"  he  added, 
after  a  minute's  thought — "  it  may  be  that  this  heat,  like  the  quenchless  thirst  that  con- 
sumes me,  has  its  seat  in  my  own  bosom  !  I  am  sick — sick  of  this  world — and  aweary !" 
and  leaving  the  window,  he  let  the  curtain  once  more  ifall  across  the  opening ;  but  for- 
got, or  peihaps  intentionally  omitted,  to  close  the  casement.  "  Sick  of  it,"  he  continued, 
in  a  doubtful,  meditating  tone  :  "  then  why  not  leave  it  7  It  were  but  one  little  thrust — 
one  gasp — one  moment's  struggle  !  Nay  ;  I  have  seen  hundreds  of  men  die  without  BO 
much  as  one  struggle  !  There  was  that  roundhead  follow  I  shot  through  the  head  at 
Edgehill — one  moment  he  was  charging  his  pike  at  my  horse's  poitrel,  and  the  next  he 
was  as  motionless  upon  his  back,  as  if  he  had  been  dead  a  week!  I  do  not  think  his 
eyelids  winked  after  the  ball  sunk  into  his  forehead — I  think  I  can  see  him  now — he 
felt  nothing!  Then  why  not?  why  not?"  and,  as  ho  spoke,  he  took  down  one  of  the 
horseman's  pistols  that  hung  above  the  mantel-piece  ;  tried  it  with  the  ramrod,  and  find- 
ing that  it  was  loaded,  opened  the  pan  and  shook  the  priming  out,and  freshened  it  from 
a  small  powder  flask  ;  and  then  cocked  the  weapon.  "  It  were  the  better  way — one 
pang  ! — perchance  not  one  ! — and  then  peace  !"  and,  with  the  word,  he  raised  the  muz- 
zle slowly,  till  it  was  level  with  his  temples,  and  held  it  there  quite  steadily  for  nearly 
half  a  minute — but  then  he  raised  the  left  hand  to  his  forow,  and  clasped  it  tightly  with 
his  fingers  as  if  to  still  the  throbbing ;  while  the  right,  holding  the  murderous  imple- 
ment,  sank  gradually  to  bis  side. 

"  Peace  ?  peace  ?"  he  murmured  next,  in  a  tone  of  indecision — "  that  is  it — is  it 
peace  ?  that  which  cometh  after — or  are  this  heat,  and  thirst,  and  agony,  but  foretastes 
of  the  things  that  shall  be  !  There  is,  methinks,  a  fearful  scripture  that  tells  of  the 
tongue  of  one  so  scathed  and  tormented,  that  he  craved  but  a  drop,  such  as  should 
trickle  from  the  tip  of  a  finger  dipped  in  water !  Strange  that  this  should  now  cross 
my  mind,  that  has  not  heard  or  thought  of  it  for  years  !  I  would  I  knew — I  would  I 
knew  if  I  should  see  these  faces,  that  look  at  me  always — that  pale,  mild,  studious 
countenance  of  the  old  man,  with  his  gray  locks  all  blood-sprinkled — and  why  should 
they  be  bloody  ?  There  was  not  so  much  blood  in  all  his  veins,  if  I  had  smitten  him. 
But  I  shed  not  his  blood — nay  !  but  it  was  not  shed  at  all !  Tush  !  this  is  mere  dream- 
ing! Shame  on  thee  !  courage,  Marmaduke  1  courage!  Ha!  cowardice?  Fear  of  the 
present !  fear  of  the  future  !  cowardice — rank  cowardice  both  ways  !  No  !  I — I  dare 
not  do  it !"  and  he  let  down  the  hammer  of  the  pistol,  and  hung  it  up  again  beside  its 
fellow  ;  and,  still  grasping  his  fevered  brew  with  his  left  hand,  resumed  his  oft-repeated 
walk,  but  with  a  slower  step,  and  an  &ir  mure  contemplative  and  less  nervous  than  before. 

"  I  dare  not !"  he  repeated  ;  "  yet  when  before  did  it  ever  fail  me  ?  and  what  now  ? 
what  else  is  left  to  me  ?" 

Before,  however,  he  had  time  to  answer  that  question,  even  to  his  own  mind,  the 


OB,     THE     MAID'S     REVENGE.  211 

trampling  of  horses  came  loudly  to  his  ear  from  the  courtyard  below,  and  he  heard  a 
clear,  sonorous  voice  inquiring  for  Major  Wyvil.  He  went  and  looked  out  of  the  win. 
dow,  but  so  dark  was  the  night,  and  so  dim  the  lantern  over  the  door,  that  he  could 
only  distinguish  the  outlines  of  three  figures,  all  on  horseback.  An  answer  was  given 
by  the  old  porter,  whose  mumbling  tones  reached  not  so  high  as  to  be  audible  ;  but  that 
it  was  affirmative,  was  evident  by  the  leaping  of  the  principal  person  to  the  ground  as 
soon  as  he  had  the  reply — and,  at  the  same  time,  the  jingling  of  the  spurs  and  the  clash 
of  his  steel  scabbard  on  the  pavement,  assured  Marmaduke  that  he  was  a  gentleman, 
and  possibly  a  soldier,  who  sought  for  him. 

"  Ha  !"  he  said,  "  this  is  well.  Now  would  I  wager  my  best  horse  against  a  mule 
of  Arragon,  that  that  is  the  bearer  of  a  cartel,  either  from  that  misproud  old  doting 
baronet,  or,  better  yet,  from  some  one  of  those  prating  popinjays  of  France.  Heaven 
send  it  may !"  and  his  eye  flashed,  as  it  had  not  done  for  many  an  hour.  The  spurred 
step  mounted  the  staircase,  and  paused  at  the  door,  and  in  a  moment  Clement  came 
into  the  room,  announcing  that  a  gentleman  was  without,  asking  to  speak  with  Major 
Wyvil. 

"  Who  is  it,  Clement?"  inquired  Marmaduke,  half -doubtfully. 

"  I  don't  know,  sir — he  refused  to  give  his  name.  Yet  I  have  heard  his  voice  before ; 
though  when,  I  cannot  just  now  recollect." 

"  Are  you  sure,  that  it  is  a  gentleman,  at  all ;  and  not  an  archer,  or  a  sergeant  in 
disguise  ?" 

"  Oh,  no  !  it  is  a  gentleman,  and  a  soldier — I  saw  his  hand,  with  a  fine  diamond 
ring  upon  his  finger,  although  he  hid  his  face  from  me.  But  it  was  not  the  diamond  : 
no  sergeant  of  police  or  archer  ever  had  such  a  hand." 

"  Admit  him  then  at  once,"  said  Wyvil ;  and  the  next  minute  a  tall  man  entered, 
wearing  a  slouched  black  hat  with  a  falling  feather,  dressed  in  deep  mourning,  and 
holding  a  lap  of  his  cloak  over  the  lower  part  of  his  face,  until  Clement  had  left  the 
room  and  closed  the  door  after  him — then  he  withdrew  the  mantle  ;  and  Wyvil,  whose 
eyes  had  been  fixed  on  him  with  eager  expectation,  started  back  exclaiming — 

"  General  Chaloner !" 

"  Even  so,  Major  Wyvil !"  replied  Henry,  uncovering  himself  as  he  spoke. 

"  And  to  what?"  asked  Marmaduke,  recovering  himself  with  a  little  effort,  for  he 
had  been  surprised  ;  and  moreover,  though  he  knew  not  why,  he  never  felt  entirely  at 
his  ease  in  the  presence  of  that  man — "  to  what  circumstance  do  I  owe  the  honor  of 
again  seeing  General  Chaloner  in  my  poor  lodging  ?  I  trow,  it  is  not  as  a  visit  of  cour- 
tesy, or  a  call  of  pleasure  ?"  and  he  endeavored  to  veil  his  discomposure  under  a  sneer. 

"  It  is  not,  sir  ;"  Chaloner  answered  coolly,  "  except  so  far  as  courtesy  must  ever  have 
a  share  in  these  matters.  In  truth,  I  have  little  pleasure  in  your  company — " 

"  You  might  have  spared  yourself  the  trouble  then,  and  me  the  annoyance  of  this 
untimely  interruption,"  returned  Wyvil,  haughtily  ;  "  sending  your  wishes  by  a  more 
proper  messenger." 

"  You  are  wrong,  sir  ;  I  could  not  do  so,  or  I  would,"  said  Henry,  perfectly  calm,  and 
unmoved  by  his  insulting  manner ;  "  for  my  purpose  being  to  hand  you  this,  the  mea- 
sure of  my  sword,  and  demand  a  meeting  from  you  at  the  Presaux  Clercs,  or  whatever 
other  place  you  may  appoint,  at  the  dawn  of  day  to-morrow ;  and  as  I  propose  that  we 
should  meet  without  seconds,  save  only  a  servant  on  each  side  to  see  fair  play — for 
where  is  the  use  of  involving  others,  who  have  no  share  in  our  quarrel,  in  its  conse- 
quences— I  could  not  send  a  gentleman  to  bear  my  cartel ;  and  of  course  would  not 
send  it  by  a  menial." 

Scarcely  ten  minutes  had  passed,  since  Wyvil,  in  the  pride  and  fierceness  of  his 
heart,  expressed  a  wish  that  his  visitor  might  be  the  bearer  of  a  cartel — and  when  he 
so  spoke,  he  really  did  wish  it ;  and,  perhaps,  had  it  been  any  other  man  on  earth  than 
he  who  it  was  that  summoned  him  to  fight,  he  world  have  felt  something  akin  to  rap- 
ture at  the  opportunity  of  banishing,  by  so  vital  an  excitement,  the  conscience-conjured 
phantoms  that  made  his  solitude  dreadfully  populous.  But  as  it  was — he  liked  it  not, 
and  he  hesitated  as  he  answered.  It  was  not  that  he  feared — no  !  all  deficient,  despica. 


212  MARMADTTKE 

bly  deficient  as  he  was  in  moral  courage — there  was  no  braver  animal  on  earth  ;  no 
one  more  full  of  that  high,  dashing,  and  impulsive  gallantry,  that  makes  it  a  far  harder 
thing  to  sit  by  a  mere  spectator,  than  to  rush  as  a  leading  actor  into  the  fiercest  fray. 
He  had  no  dread  of  death  at  all,  unless  from  his  own  hand.  It  was  not  long  before 
that,  by  his  own  hand  actually,  he  had  thought  to  die  ;  and  perhaps,  but  for  the  timely 
interruption,  might  so  have  died,  in  his  greater  dread  of  life.  Yet  now — now — when 
the  very  circumstance  had  come  to  pass,  for  which  he  had  been  wishing,  he  shrunk 
from  it. 

"  I  knew  not,"  he  replied,  with  a  tongue  that  almost  faltered,  "  that  we  had  any 
quarrel.  I  do  not  comprehend  the  meaning  of  your  claim ;  and,  though  I  am  the  last 
man  living  who  would  refuse  an  invitation  founded  upon  cause,  I  may  say,  without 
boasting,  that  I  have  proved  myself  so  often  to  fear  nothing,  that  I  can  well  afford  to 
decline  a  causeless  challenge  !" 

"  I  thought,"  replied  Chaloner,  "  from  all  I  have  ever  heard,  that  Major  Wy vil  was 
less  scrupulous !  But  since  his  conscience  is  so  strict,  I  can  assure  him  I  have  cause — 
deep  cause — for  this  proceeding.  Nay,  farther,  that  it  is  forced  upon  me  by  no  will 
of  my  own,  and  even,  in  some  sort,  against  my  principle.  But  so  it  is  !  meet  me,  you 
must — by  my  hand  must  you  fall  to-morrow  !" 

"Are  you,  then,  the  disposer  of  events  ?"  asked  Wyvil,  almost  with  a  shudder,  and 
so  tamely  that  he  himself  was  astonished  at  his  humbleness  ;  "  or  how  can  you  foretell 
the  fate  of  battles  ?  My  sword  is  as  keen  as  yours  !  my  hand — " 

"  Trembles !"  said  Henry  Chaloner — "  and  how  should  it  not  tremble,  steeped  as  it 
is  knuckle-deep  in  innocent  and  friendly  gore  !  heaped  as  it  is,  with  foul  and  festering 
sin — weighed  down  by  conscious  treason — loaded  with  the  pure  life  of  one  who  loved 
you,  saved  you,  sacrified  all  for  you  !  and,  for  her  love,  you — slew  her !" 

"  There  is  no  blood  upon  my  hand  save  what  was  shed  in  battle,  and  for  a  righteous 
cause — "  Wyvil  began,  but  Henry  fiercely  interrupted  him — 

"  Was  it  then  for  a  righteous  cause — was  it  then  from  a  battle-field  that  Mark  Selby's 
blood  cried  out  to  God  for  vengeance  ?  And  lo !  he  has  appointed  his  avenger  1" 

"  Mark  Selby's  blood !  What  mean  you  ?  I  shed  no  blood  of  his — no  blood  of  his 
teas  shed — " 

"  If  not  with  the  strong  hand — with  the  murderous  heart,  thou  didst  slay  him  !  and 
his  blood  was  shed  !  Man  !  man !  with  these  eyes — with  these  abhorrent  eyes,  I  saw 
the  walls,  the  floor  bedabbled  with  the  thick  gore  where  he  fell !  I  saw  the  mild  benevo- 
lent face,  the  venerable  hairs  smeared  with  the  witness  of  thy  crime — and  will  thou 
dare  deny  it  ?  Fool !  fool !  the  servant  had  a  tongue  who  called  thee  to  his  chamber  ! 
had  ears,  which  heard  the  words  that  passed  between  ye — the  shameful  words  that 
slew  him  !  had  eyes,  which  saw  the  master  he  adored,  steeped  in  the  life-blood  oozing 
from  his  aged  veins — ay !  dying — dying  by  your  deed !  when  he  returned,  and  you 
had  gone  forth  from  the  house  which  you  had  plunged  in  sorrow.  Now,  then — now, 
then — did  you  not  slay  him  ?  Is  not  his  blood  upon  your  head — upon  your  soul  ?" 

Wyvil  made  no  reply,  but  cast  himself  into  a  chair,  and  covering  his  face  with  both 
his  hands,  fell  into  a  fit  of  convulsive  sobbing — though  not  a  tear  flowed  from  his  stony 
eyes,  while  all  his  sinewy  frame  shook  with  the  terrible  intensity  of  his  passionate 
remorse — but  not  for  that  did  the  accuser  cease  from  his  dread  appeal. 

"  Is  not  this  murder  ?  and  if  it  were  not  so — how  died  sweet  Alice  Selby  ?  How, 
I  sav,  died  she,  that  her  blood  is  not  on  your  soul  ?  Was  it  a  natural  decay  that  bore  her 
ofF,  whom  I  saw  not  three  months  ago  as  lovely  as  the  morning,  as  blithe  as  the  sum- 
met  wind  which  wooed  her  tresses  ?  Was  it  a  casual  stroke — a  sudden  fever — that  cut 
her  off,  before  whose  beauty,  I  have  heard  say,  a  king  bowed  scarce  a  week  past  ?  or 
was  it— was  it,  I  say,  the  canker  planted  in  the  heart  of  the  rose,  by  the  vile  worm 
that  crawled  into  that  sanctuary,  and  marred  the  beauty  that  preserved  it?  Man  !  if 
you  be,  indeed  a  man,  that  do  such  things  and  yet  live— man !  at  the  risk  of  her  own, 
and  what  she  valued  more,  her  father's  life,  did  she  preserve  you  from  the  Ironsides— 
who  never  yet  did  so  righteous  deed,  as  they  had  then  performed,  if  they  had  trod 
your  human  clay  beneath  their  horses'  hoofs  into  the  mire  that  had  been  so  polluted ! 


OE,     THE     MAID'S     REVENGE.  213 

Man !  for  your  sake,  she  rejected  one  who  would  have  died  or  made  her  happy.  She 
gave  you  her  invaluable  love — the  whole  and  single  adoration  of  thai  angelic  heart! 
and  you  betrayed — rejected — murdered  her !  Yet  more  .'  yet  more !  when  she  well 
knew  your  villainy,  your  loathsome  baseness,  she  gave  you,  from  the  highness  of  her 
own  heart,  the  means  to  win  her  rival — and  you — most  miserable  beast !  Nay,  but  I 
will  not  shame  the  honest  beasts  of  God's  creation  by  so  naming  you !  and  you,  base, 
Judaslike  betrayer,  profited  by  her  own  bounty  to  destroy  her  !  Have  I  yet  said  enough — 
or  must  I  more ?  Have  I  not  cause ?  will  you  now  fight?  or  are  you  coward  also  ?" 

"You  have  said  enough,"  replied  Wyvil,  withdrawing  his  hands,  and  showing  his 
face  paler  than  monumental  marble,  "  and  you  have  cause ;  yet  spare  me — spare  me 
the  misery,  the  guilt  of  further  bloodshed." 

"  Of  further  bloodshed  ?"  said  Chaloner,  in  an  inquiring  tone.  "The  wretch  is  dis. 
traught  with  abject  terror — what  bloodshed?" 

"  Force  me  not — force  me  not,  for  the  love  of  Heaven  !  to  shed  thine  likewise." 

"  Mine?  my  blood  ?  thou  shed  my  blood  ?"  exclaimed  Chaloner ;  "thou  ?  Thou  fool ! 
miserable  fool !  Know  you  not  that  I  call  you  out  to  slay  you — chosen — appointed — yea ! 
inspired,  to  do  this  judgment?  and  think  you,  that  your  sword  can  harm  one  hair  of 
me,  thrice  armed  in  innocence  and  virtue,  and  thrice-threefold,  as  the  predestined 
instrument  of  His  great  vengeance?  I  call  thee  not  to  fight — but  to  die  !  to  give  blood 
for  blood !  to  make  atonement,  with  thy  sinful  life,  for  the  lives  that  thou  hast  taken ! 
Think  not  to  shield  thyself,  therefore,  by  that  subterfuge.  I  shall  not,  cannot  die  by 
your  hand  ;  and  lo !  I  tell  you,  not  of  myself,  but  of  the  spirit  that  possesses  me — even 
the  spirit  of  Him,  who  alone  cannot  lie — you  die  the  death  to-morrow  !  Will  you  fight 
now  ?  or  must  I  brand  you  first,  and  proclaim  you  slave  and  coward,  till  every  corner 
in  all  Europe  shall  ring  with  your  shame — till  '  dastardly  as  Wyvil '  shall  be  a  byword 
and  a  proverb !  and  then  batoon  you  in  the  public  streets,  wheresoever  I  may  find  you, 
till  you  die  like  a  slave  and  villain  under  the  bastinado !  Will  you  fight  now  ?" 

"  You  leave  me  no  choice,"  answered  Wyvil,  gloomily ;  "  but  I  take  Heaven  to  wit- 
ness, that  this  encounter  is  of  your  seeking — and  the  guilt  of  it  yours  !  If  you  fall,  on 
your  own  head  be  it  1" 

"  Amen  !"  said  Chaloner.  "  But  fear  not  on  that  account,  for  I  shall  not  fall !  At 
five  o'clock,  on  foot,  and  with  one  servant,  will  I  call  for  you,  here  at  this  house  I 
There  lies  the  measure  of  my  blade — at  five  !  Remember !" 

He  said  no  more,  nor  waited  for  an  answer,  but  bowed  his  head,  left  the  room,  strode 
down  the  creaking  staircase,  and  mounting  his  horse,  rode  deliberately  to  his  lodgings ; 
and  within  half  an  hour  was  buried  in  the  tranquility  of  calm  and  dreamless  sleep. 


CHAPTER    XXXIX. 

No  words  can  describe  the  state  of  Marmaduke,  when  he  again  found  himself  alone. 
Even  while  Chaloner  was  there,  taunting  and  lashing  him  with  his  indignant  eloquence, 
he  had  been  dreadfully  shocked  and  horror-stricken  by  the  tidings  he  had  brought  him ; 
and  it  was  his  pride  only,  that  even  then  prevented  him  from  yielding  to  the  full  agonies 
of  his  remorse  and  despair.  For  he  was  very  far,  indeed,  from  being  in  his  character 
all  evil — few  men  indeed  are  so — and  Wyvil,  had  there  been  one  or  two  traits  in  his 
mind  which  were  wanting,  might  have  been  as  conspicuous  for  good,  as  he  now  had 
become  for  ill.  The  great  want,  the  great  weakness  of  his  character,  was  a  lack  of 
resolute,  energetic  will — of  an  established  principle.  His  impulses  were,  for  the  most 
part,  good  and  noble,  and  the  resolves  founded  on  those  impulses  right  in  the  main,  and 
honorable — but  the  misfortune  was,  that  the  impulse  was  immediately  succeeded  by 
another,  and  the  first  resolve  supplanted  by  a  new  determination  ;  so  that  from  the  one 
radical  defect  of  vacillation,  there  grew  up  with  the  growth  of  his  mind  inconstancy, 
and  inconsistency,  and  falsehood.  He  never,  perhaps,  in  his  life,  had  committed  any 
crime  with  deliberate  premeditation  5  but  suffering  his  passions  of  the  moment  to  sweep 


214  MARMADVKE    WYVILj 

him  into  difficulty  after  difficulty,  he  was  brought  constantly  into  positions  from  which 
he  only  could  be  extricated  by  a  falsehood  or  a  crime  ;  and  then  he  would  say  and  do 
things,  the  very  possibility  of  which  he  would  have  ridiculed  an  hour  before,  and  the 
commission  of  which  he  repented,  perhaps,  before  they  were  concluded.  He  was,  in 
short,  a  man  whose  intentions  were  ever  better  than  his  actions ;  as  must  be  the  case 
always  with  those  who  act  from  impulse,  not  from  principle.  Had  he  been,  strange  as 
it  may  seem  to  say,  a  greater  villain,  he  would  not  have  committed  one  of  the  offences 
which  rendered  him  so  mean  a  wretch  in  the  eyes  of  others,  so  miserable  in  his  own — 
and  when  he  had  committed  them,  he  would  have  smiled  upon  the  ruin  he  had  wrought, 
and  lapped  himself  in  his  own  security.  A  thorough  villain,  acting  with  a  bad  view, 
would  never  have  been  guilty  of  the  strange  inconsistent  folly  by  which,  while  really 
as  much  in  love  as  he  could  possibly  be  with  one  woman,  he  had  been  induced  to  flutter 
and  disport  himself  about  another,  till,  gratifying  neither  passion  nor  ambition,  he  be. 
trayed  both,  and  finally  lost  both — and  himself  likewise.  That  he  could  never  have 
been  an  originally  and  radically  vicious  man — that  nature  had  not,  in  his  composition, 
mixed  the  ingredients  necessary  to  make  up  a  thorough  villain — was  now  evident 
enough,  from  the  tremulous  paroxysm  of  remorseful  torture  into  which  he  was  thrown. 
He  flung  himself  upon  his  knees,  and  strove  to  pray,  but  the  words  seemed  to  choke  him. 

"  I  cannot — I  cannot !"  he  exclaimed  ;  "  how  should  I !  Oh,  my  God  !  how  should 
I  pray  to  thee  ?  Repentance  !  how  can  /  repent !  whose  deeds  are  done  and  registered 
already  ?  I  can  believe— I  can  believe  right  easily — that,  for  the  thief  upon  the  cross — 
that,  for  Cain  even,  there  might  be  pardon  !  but  for  me — no  !  no  !  It  is  impossible  ! 
and  I  must  on!  on!  on!  deeper,  yet  deeper,  into  blood  and  murder!"  and  he  sat 
down,  and  buried  his  head  for  a  while  in  his  palms,  and  then  rose  up,  muttering,  "  No  ! 
I  will  not — I  dare  not  meet  him  !  Truly,  he  said,  there  was  already  too  much  blood 
upon  my  soul !  I  will  fly — fly  ?  but  whither  ?  Wretch !  wretch  !  there  is  no  spot,  no 
foot  of  the  wide  world,  to  which  I  can  escape ;  where  my  own  name,  my  own  black 
deeds  will  not  ring  in  my  ears,  and  drown  my  soul  with  their  eternal  condemnation ! 
And  how  fly — how  ?  with  but  one  rouleau  left  of  all  my  princely  fortune  ?  No  !  here 
am  I  fettered  down — meshed,  as  completely  as  the  fly  in  the  devouring  spider's 
toil — hemmed  in,  as  the  stag  at  bay,  with  the  whole  world  hooting  for  the  savage 
pack  that  bay  about  me  !  Well !  it  is  best  so !  It  is  fate !  destiny  !  What  fools 
we  are — what  fools !  to  dream  ourselves  free  agents — we,  whose  whole  course  of  life, 
from  the  cradle  to  the  grave,  is  but  one  chain  of  chances,  circumstances  over  which 
we  have  no  control,  binding  us  in  their  adamantine  links,  dragging  us  onward,  where 
they  will ;  now  with  the  speed  of  the  tornado,  now  slow  and  scarcely  felt,  but  still  om- 
nipotent— inevitable  !  Why  struggle,  then  ?  why  flutter  our  weak  wings,  where  every 
new  convulsion  but  cumbers  us  with  a  new  chain  ?  Be  it  so  !  I,  at  least,  will  strive 
no  longer — I,  at  least,  will  go,  henceforth,  where  fate  leads  and  fortune.  If  they  have 
driven  me  to  bay,  let  them  beware  the  horn  !  I  wi.l  die,  now  that  all  is  over,  bravely ! 
And  yet,  why  die  at  all  ?  why  should  my  spirit  sink,  or  my  heart  falter,  at  meeting  this 
mad  fanatic — for  mad  he  must  be,  thus  to  play  prophet  and  avenger?  Pshaw !  have  I 
not  crossed  swords  with  Fairfax,  and  come  off  unscathed  ?  and  unhorsed  the  butcher 
Harrison — both  better  men,  I  trow,  than  this  precise  and  preaching  Puritan  ?  Ho ! 
Clement — without  there — bring  me  more  wine,  and  heap  the  fire !  it  is  cold,  and  I 
am  still  athirst !"  And  as  the  man  came,  he  addressed  him,  speaking  hastily — "  Cle- 
ment," he  said,  "  thou  art  a  faithful  fellow,  and  hast  well  served  me.  Now,  I  have  one 
more  service  for  thee — perchance  it  may  be  the  last.  I  stand  pledged  to  give  General 
Chaloner  the  meeting,  at  five  o'clock  to-morrow  morning,  for  mortal  combat  in  Pres 
aux  Clercs.  We  are  to  be  attended  each  but  by  one  servant,  as  a  witness.  You  will 
go  with  me,  Clement?  If  I  should  chance  to  fall,  you  shall  be  my  executor;  and  to 
secure  your  escape  in  case  of  trouble,  here  are  a  hundred  louis — the  last  my  purse  holda 
at  present— if  I  survive,  there  are  bright  days  defore  us.  You  will  go  with  me  ?" 

"Surely  I  will,  sir,"  answered  the  servant;  "else  were  I  a  poor  Englishman,  to 
leave  my  master  at  a  pinch  like  that,  What  weapons  shall  I  take— my  sword  and 
buckler  ?'» 


OR,     fHE     MAID'S     REVENGE.  215 

"  No  weapons,  Clement,"  replied  his  master ;  "  you  go  but  as  a  witness — not  to  fight. 
Now,  my  good  fellow,  heap  up  ihe  fire,  leave  me  good  store  of  wood,  and  let  me  not 
lack  wine — and  then  begone  to  bed,  for  you  must  be  on  foot  by  five  at  the  latest.  And 
now  good  night — get  thee  away  to  bed  !" 

His  orders  were  performed  immediately — the  fire  blazed  up  on  the  old  hearth,  and 
several  flasks  of  wine  stood  ready  on  the  board,  strangely  contrasted  with  some  six  or 
seven  swords  of  different  lengths  and  sizes,  the  steel  blades  glittering  blue  and  cold, 
beside  the  crimson  wine,  which  Wyvil  was  engaged  in  measuring.     "  Ay !  this  will 
do,"  he  exclaimed  at  last,  as  he  found  one  which  matched  exactly  the  strip  of  paper 
that  Chaloner  had  left.     "  I  am  very  glad  of  it — it  is  my  best  blade — and  a  good  omen 
too — I  never  used  it,  save  when  our  arms  prevailed  !"  and  as  he  spoke,  he  tried  its 
temper  on  the  floor,  bending  it  nearly  double,  and  suffering  it  to  spring  back  at  once, 
which  it  did,  brilliantly  clear  and  elastic.     He  then  wiped  it  carefully  with  his  cambric 
kerchief,  before  he  consigned  it  to  the  velvet-covered  scabbard,  and  made  two  or  three 
graceful  thrusts  in  carte  and  tierce  with  the  sheathed  weapon ;  and  as  he  laid  it  on  the 
side-table,  "  This,  and  my  art  to  boot,"  he  said  in  a  tone  of  exultation — "and  may  the 
Lord  have  mercy  on  his  soul'-' — but  after  a  moment's  pause,  he  amended  the  sentence, 
by  adding  the  words — "  who  falls  to  morrow  !  And  yet — what  right  have  I  to  call  on 
Him  for  mercy  ?"  he  continued,  relapsing  again  into  his  fearful  and  despondent  gloom. 
"  For  me  He  has  no  mercy — else  would  he  not  haunt  me  with  these  faces  !  They  were 
gone  but  awhile  ago,  and  now  they  are  everywhere  around  me  !  pale,  wan.  reproachful 
faces !  Tush  !  I  will  not  be  thus  the  fool  of  my  own  fancies.     Let  us  see,  if  this  will 
not  banish  them  !"  he  poured  out,  and  quaffed  four  or  five  glasses  in  succession  of  the 
strong  rich  Burgundy,  and  stirred  the  logs  on  the  hearth  into  a  hot  fierce  blaze,  which 
filled  every  corner  of  the  room  with  cheerful  light;  then  he  looked  around  him  with  a 
half-fearful  gaze,  and  said,  "  They  have  vanished — they  never  brook  a  steady  and  deter, 
mined  eye — yet  it  is  passing  strange,  how  they  return  for  ever !  and  passing  strange  it 
was,  that  I  should  see  blood  on  his  face  and  locks,  when  I  knew  not  that  any  blood 
had  been  spilt — that  looks  not  like  mere  fancy  !  the  empty  phantoms  of  a  guilty  con. 
science  !  And  yet  why  guilty  ?"  he  went  on — sometimes  conversing  with  himself  in  a 
low  smothered  tone,  and  sometimes  merely  meditating  and  arguing  with  his  own  mind 
in  silence  :  "  Surely  it  was  all  fate  !  all  fate  or  chance  !    I  sought  her  not — it  was  not 
my  fault,  that  she  sat  there  in  the  fish-house,  as  I  rode  down  the  hill — it  was  not  my 
fault,  that  she  called  to  me  in  her  tenderness  of  heart,  and  saved  me  from  the  Puritans, 
and  hid  me  in  her  father's  house,  and  tended  me,  till  love  grew  upon  us  both,  and 
has  at  last  made  both  so  wretched  !  No!  it  was  fate — all  fate !  and  I  am  guiltless." 
Meanwhile,  he  continued  to  apply  himself  continually  to  the  wine,  which  now  appeared 
to  take  some  hold  on  him,  for  his  face  began  to  get  strangely  flushed,  though  it  had 
been  before  as  pale  as  marble  ;    and  the  veins  on  his  brow  were  fearfully  disturbed, 
and  his  eyes  had  a  wild  and  almost  insane  glare,  as  they  wandered  through  the  vacancy 
of  the  large  room.     Never  was  a  more  fearful  spectacle,  of  a  mind  harassed  and  tor. 
mented  by  the  stings  of  a  conscience;  which,  despite  all  his  attempts  at  self-delusion, 
persisted  in  pronouncing  him  miserab'y  guilty !    He  spoke  no  more,  however,  but  sat 
quite  still,  fixing  his  eyes  steadily  upon  the  blazing  embers ;  while  past  counts  came  to 
his  memory  so  palpably,  that  he  almost  believed  he  saw  them  with  his  bodily  vision. 
The  last  words  he  had  uttered,  struck  a  new  chord  ;  and  a  long,  long  array  of  pictures 
came  crowding  one  by  one  upon  his  soul  with  terrible  distinctness.     The  gray  and 
misty  evening  when  he  first  saw  her — the  sandy  road  winding  down  the  steep  hill — the 
clump  of  shadowy  beeches  on  the  right  hand — the  swampy  woodland  on  the  left — the 
sudden  angle,  and  the  scene  that  then  flashed  upon  his  eyes — the  ivy-covp.ed  bridge, 
and  the  small  fishing-house,  and  the  fair  lovely  creature  standing  upon  the  platform, 
and  beckoning  him  the  road  to  safety !     All !  everything  was  clear,  and  tangible  as 
when  it  happened — every  word  that  she  spoke,  every  graceful  gesture  with  which  she 
led  him  along  the  tangled  deer-path ;  the  very  tones  of  her  soft  silvery  voice,  the  very 
touch  of  her  warm  hand,  was  present  to  him.     The  scene  changed,  and  he  lay  in  the 
rude  loft  of  the  boat-house,  with  the  harsh  threats  of  the  Puritans  echoing  under  the 


216  MAEMADT7KE 

low  vault,  and  the  glare  of  their  torches  filling  the  nook  in  which  he  lay  with  smoky 
radiance  ;  while  eve*-  and  anon  he  seemed  to  hear  her  gentle  notes,  inspired  with  calm 
readiness  of  mind,  diverting  the  suspicion  of  the  vengeful  searchers !  Again,  he  was  in 
the  secret  vault,  with  that  young  innocent  face  bending  compassionately  over  him, 
soothing  his  weary  hours  by  all  that  her  simple  skill  in  song,  or  music,  or  artless  con- 
versation  could  effect ;  ministering  to  his  wants,  anticipating  every  wish,  whispering 
hope  and  consolation.  He  saw  her,  as  the  first  deep  blush  irradiated  her  pale  checks, 
as  her  soft  eyes  swam  in  a  softer  tenderness,  as  her  sweet  bosom  heaved  as  though  it 
would  have  burst,  and  her  slight  figure  shook  with  the  strong  emotion,  when  he  first 
whispered  love,  and  her  soul — though  not  yet  her  tongue — confessed  it  mutual !  He 
heard  her  faint  and  interrupted  words — like  gentle  music,  half-lost  amid  the  breeze 
that  wafts  it — plighting  her  troth,  and  promising  eternal  confidence,  and  love,  and 
fidelity  !  He  saw  her  again  in  the  hall  of  princes,  resplendent  in  her  unmatched  beauty, 
worshipped  by  all  that  looked  upon  her,  moving  a  star  of  a  milder  yet  more  glorious 
lustre  amid  that  galaxy  of  queenly  beauty.  And  once — once  more— outstretched,  pale, 
faint,  and  in  the  shadow  of  the  grave,  where  she  fell  by  an  arrow  from  his  quiver — that 
quiver,  whence  the  shaft  was  drawn  that  had  slain  her  father  !  a  witness  of  his  wedding 
with  another  !  And  how  had  her  troth  been  kept,  how  had  her  love  been  proved,  and 
her  fidelity  ?  Betrayed — wronged — outraged — slighted,  and  scorned,  and  trampled  on, 
how  had  she  borne  her  burthen  ?  How  been  avenged  upon  the  traitor  ?  Betrayed, 
she  had  but  the  more  trusted — wronged,  she  had  but  loved  more — slighted,  scorned, 
trampled  on,  she  had  been  still — still  faithful — till  death  had  swallowed  up  fidelity  ! 
To  sacrifice  her  all — to  win  at  any  price  his  happiness — to  pardon,  and  to  love,  and  to 
load  with  benefits — that  was  the  sole  revenge  of  Alice  Selby  !  And  all  these  things 
rushed  in  at  once  upon  his  guilty  soul,  like  to  an  entering  flood-tide — and  more  than  all 
these  things !  For  he  could  see  the  places,  which  she  had  made  glad  by  her  gentle 
presence — lonely,  and  desolate,  and  sad !  He  could  see  her  chair,  vacant  in  her  wonted 
chamber ;  and  her  lute,  hanging  on  the  wall,  never  to  sound  again  beneath  her  fairy 
touch  ;  and  her  old  favorite  bloodhound,  stalking  among  the  deserted  haunts  of  his  be- 
loved mistress,  and  filling  the  courts  with  his  vain  lamentations,  and  pining  for  her 
love  daily.  He  could  see  the  merry  villagers  upon  the  May-day  green,  despoiled  of  half 
their  mirth  by  her  absence,  at  whose  coming  all  hearts  bounded.  He  could  see  the 
old  poor,  crouching  round  their  fireless  hearths,  deprived  of  more  than  half  their  scanty 
comforts  by  the  loss  of  their  benefactress.  Now  he  could  hear  their  mingled  voices — 
the  stern  and  angry  tones  of  manhood,  the  feeble  mutterings  of  old  age,  and  the  shrill 
babbling  tongue  of  childhood — all  swelling  one  great  chorus  of  dread  imprecation  against 
him,  her  slayer !  Yet  more  !  he  saw  yet  more  !  His  frenzied,  fury-haunted  conscience 
seemed  to  draw  back  the  curtains  of  the  grave — to  dissipate  the  gloom  of  the  death- 
vault — to  lift  the  coffin-lid — and  he  saw — horror  of  horrors !  the  worm  revelling,  and 
corruption,  ^he  worm'3  sister,  creeping !  It  was  too  horrible,  even  for  his  imagination, 
full-fed  as  it  had  been  with  terror.  As  the  dread  image  came  before  him,  he  sprang  up 
— his  hair  bristling — Ms  flesh  quivering  with  a  cold  awe — his  eyes  fixed  and  glaring — • 
his  hand  pointing — 

"  Ha !"  he  cried  aloud,  with  a  wild  and  frightful  sound,  half  shriek,  half  laughter, 
"  Ha  !  ha !  who  says  that  it  is  fancy  ?  who  says  that  she  is  dead  !  Lies  !  lies  !  Ye  fool 
me  not !  I  see  her — there,  with  her  mild  eyes  full  of  love  and  radiant  tenderness — 
her  sweet  lips  parted  with  a  smile  1  Alice,  my  Alice — mine !  I  come — I  come  !  Nay, 
leave  me  not — fly  not !  She  beckons,  I  will  follow — I  am  here  love — here  !  I  will  fol- 
low if  it  were  to  the  pit  of " 

As  he  uttered  this  wild  rhapsody,  he  had  rushed  from  the  hearth  by  which  he  was 
sitting,  as  if  in  pursuit  of  something  visible  to  his  eyes  only,  to  the  farther  end  of  the 
room  ;  and,  as  the  last  word  left  his  Up  \ — the  most  awful  word  that  human  lips  can 
syllable — he  plunged  headlong,  with  arms  outstretched,  to  gra.sp  the  fancied  fugitive, 
against  the  curtain  of  the  farthest  window — it  yielded  to  his  furious  impulse—there 
•was  no  casement  there  to  check  his  impetus — no  balustrade  to  save  him— one  moment 
he  was  staggering  in  the  vacant  air — the  next,  he  plunged,  sheer  downward,  upon  the 


OR,     THE     MAID'S     REVENGE.  217 

granite  pavement !  It  was  but  indeed,  as  he  said  himself,  one  pang — perhaps  not  one ! 
for  his  head  smote  the  stones  first,  that  he  never  moved,  nor  even  groaned.  He  was 
dead — he  had  made  no  sign  ! 


CHAPTER    XL. 

IT  was  already  morning,  but  not  daylight,  for  a  thick  heavy  mist  had  come  up  from 
the  Seine,  and  blotted  the  stars  long  before  they  set,  and  mustered  in  the  narrow  streets 
so  densely,  that  even  at  noonday  the  sun  would  have  had  scarce  power  to  make  a  dim 
and  cloudy  twilight  through  its  dense  fog-wreaths.  So  dark  was  it  when  Chaloner  set 
forth  from  his  lodging  in  the  Rue  Royale,  that  he  was  forced  to  desire  Norman,  whom 
he  had  chosen  to  accompany  him,  to  take  a  lantern  in  his  hand,  in  order  to  thread  the 
murky  lanes  through  which  his  course  lay,  unobstructed.  The  clocks  were  already 
striking  five  ;  and  yet  so  dark  and  dismal  was  the  morning,  that  not  so  much  as  a 
chance  passenger  was  moving  in  the  streets — the  latest  revellers  were  abed — the  ear- 
liest artizan  had  not  stirred  forth.  Not  a  chimney,  as  yet,  sent  up  its  smoke  ;  not  a 
window-shutter  was  unbarred,  or  a  shop  opened.  Only  at  rare  and  distant  intervals 
the  light,  just  flickering  ere  it  died,  in  the  lantern  of  some  port  cochere,  gave  token 
that  the  hand  of  man  had  not  long  since  been  moving.  Such  was  the  morning,  and 
such  the  aspect  of  the  town,  when  Henry  Chaloner  arrived  at  the  little  court  which 
separated  the  house  wherein  dwelt  his  destined  victim,  from  the  open  street.  He  was 
dressed  in  his  ordinary  garb,  except  that  he  was  wrapped  closely  in  a  thick  mantle,  to 
guard  against  the  inclemency  of  the  weather,  and  carried  his  sheathed  rapier  in  his 
hand  ;  Frank  Norman  moving  a  pace  or  two  in  advance  of  him  with  his  lantern. 
Chaloner  had  not  spoken  a  word  since  he  left  his  lodging,  so  heavily  was  his  mind 
burthened  by  the  tremendous  thoughts  engendered  of  his  present  purpose  ;  but,  as  he 
entered  the  little  gateway  in  the  iron  palisades — 

"  Lower  your  light,"  he  said — "  lower  your  light,  Frank.  There  is  a  strange  shadow 
"n  the  pavement,  there  before  you — if  it  be  a  shadow." 

The  la  an  did  as  he  was  directed  ;  and,  as  he  did  so,  let  fall  the  lantern,  and  started 
back  with  an  exclamation  of  horror  ;  for  the  first  gleam  had  fallen  full  on  the  ghastly 
face  and  mutilated  form  of  the  dead  man  ! 

"  What  ails  thee  now  ?"  cried  Chaloner,  entirely  undaunted  by  the  alarm  of  his  ser- 
vant ;  although  he  knew  him  to  be  as  brave  and  true  as  steel  against  any  mortal  peril. 
"  The  light  will  be  put  out ;"  and,  as  he  spoke,  he  sprang  forward  and  caught  up  the 
lantern,  just  in  time  to  preserve  the  flickering  candle  it  contained  from  extinction. 
"  And  now,"  he  said,  "  what  is  it  that  so  terrified  thee  ?  Ha  !"  he  continued,  as  the 
reviving  beam  showed  him  the  fearful  object,  all  crushed,  and  maimed,  and  gory,  that 
lay  at  his  very  feet ;  "  there  hath  been  murder  here  !  who  can  it  be  ?" 

And  stooping  down  over  the  grim  and  ghastly  corpse,  which  lay  upon  its  back,  with 
the  head  toward  him  and  the  arms  extended — for  it  had  turned  quite  over  in  the  fall — 
he  recognized  the  features  of  the  man  whom,  he  had  left  his  home  on  that  cheerless 
morning,  to  send  to  his  account  unhouseled  and  unshriven  !  One  glance  was  enough 
for  him — his  work  was  anticipated — his  crime  prevented  !  for  the  cloud  instantly  was 
swept  away  from  his  mind,  and  in  its  true  light  he  saw  the  deed  which,  to  that  very 
moment,  he  had  been  bent  on  doing.  He  understood  the  arrogance — the  bold  pre- 
sumptuous impiety  of  daring  so  much  as  to  judge,  much  less  to  meddle  with,  the  execu- 
tion of  the  Lord's  vengeance  !  He  rose  from  his  knee  an  abashed  and  altered  man. 

"  This  is  the  deed  of  the  Most  High,"  he  said,  "  who  hath  preserved  me  from  blood 
guiltiness !  I  bow  my  knee,  oh  Lord,  humbly  and  thankfully — even  the  knee  of  my 
heart — in  gratitude  for  thy  great  mercy  ;  for  thou  hast  saved  me,  thou  only,  from  deadly 
and  presumptuous  sin.  For  what  am  I,  oh  Lord,  that  I  should  judge — weak  sinner  that 
I  am — of  thine  eternal  judgment  ?  or  what  am  I,  that  I  should  think  to  execute  thy 
vengeance  on  my  brother  ?  Alas !  alas !  that  I  have  so  much  gone  astray — so  fai  for- 

10 


218  M  ARM  ADUKE     W  Y  V  I  L  ; 

gotten  that  which,  in  the  foolishness  and  vainglory  of  my  heart,  I  thought  I  knew  so 
well — even  thy  holy  scripture  1  For  what  have  I,  or  any  man,  to  do,  but  to  await  thy 
time,  as  thou  hast  spoken — 

"VENGEANCE  is  MINE;  I  WILL  REPAY,  SAITH  THE  LORD!" 

It  was  long  ere  the  horror  and  the  awe  which  these  events — these  terrible  events  ! 
treading  so  quickly  as  they  did  each  on  the  heel  of  other,  spread  even  through  the  vola- 
tile and  gay  society  of  Paris — passed  away  ;  but  it  was  longer  yet,  before  the  shadow 
and  the  gloom  were  banished  from  the  mind  of  Chaloner.  From  that  day  forth  he  was 
a  wiser,  and,  good  as  he  had  ever  been,  a  better  man  ;  for  never — from  the  hour  when 
he  shrank  back  in  dread  at  finding  his  wish  done  by  Him  who  needs  no  earthly  minister 
to  execute  His  judgments — did  he  again  suffer  his  imagination  to  crush  his  better  judg 
ment ;  and  in  the  place  of  confidence,  he  took  humility  and  hope,  to  be  the  guides  of 
his  feet  in  the  journey  through  this  vale  of  shadows. 

Years  passed,  before  his  mind  could  bear  to  contemplate  a  second  love.  But.  in  after 
years,  he  did  love  again,  and  if  not  as  ardently,  certainly  not  less  fondly  nor  less  truly. 
And  when,  in  after  days,  he  asked  a  favor  at  the  hands  of  Isabella  Oswald,  she  under- 
stood the  meaning  of  the  last  words  of  Alice  Selby  ;  and  partly  for  her  sake,  and  partly 
at  her  own  heart's  bidding,  she  did  not  say  him  nay — and  she  became  the  mistress  of 
Alice  Seiby's  Woolverton,  and  never  did  she  any  wrong  to  the  dying  maiden's  prefer- 
ence ;  for  her  high,  noble,  and  brave  impulses,  and  Chaloner's  grand,  calm  composure, 
did  temper  one  another  well — and  they  lived  honorable,  honored,  and  happy;  and 
when  their  time  was  come,  Chaloner  did  bequeath  his  tenantry  and  poor,  as  a  solemn 
trust  and  sacred,  to  a  noble  and  brave  son. 

There  are  but  few  more  of  the  personages  to  be  accounted  for,  who  mingled  in  the 
thread  ot  events  which  made  the  life  of  Alice  Selby  worthy  this  passing  record. 

John  Sherlock,  the  stout  yeoman,  when  he  found  after  many  a  month  of  courtship,  that 
Marian  Rainsford  would  indeed  never  again  marry,  took  to  himself  a  buxom  wife,  and  rode 
his  hunter  with  the  earl's  hounds  as  boldly  as  the  blithest  knight  of  the  shire,  till  his  hair 
was  as  white  as  December's  snow ;  while  his  frame  was  as  stout,  still,  and  as  hardy 
the  oak  of  his  native  country.  A  mossy  grave-stone  in  the  church-yard  at  Woolverton 
tells  the  men  of  this  generation,  that  "  John  Sherlock,  farmer,  died  Anno  Dominies 
1711,  having'for  90  years  loved  God,  honored  the  king,  and  injured  no  man." 

Frank  Norman,  soon  after  Chaloner's  return  to  England,  wedded  fair  Cicely,  the  maid 
of  the  inn;  and  for  full  many  a  year  maintained  the  credit  of  the  Stag's  Head,  the 
representative  of  Marian  Rainsford,  its  trajiquil  and  respected  hostess. 

Madame  de  Gondi,  though  she  continued  all  her  life  an  arbitress  of  the  great  world 
of  Paris,  never  entirely  recovered  the  gayety  which  had  been  her  chief  characteristic 
before  the  eventful  visit  of  the  Seiby's  ;  and  from  that  time  she  associated  more  with  the 
good  Bishop  of  Lisieux,  and  Madame  de  Maignelai,  and  less  with  the  Count  Hamiltons 
and  the  Preux  Grammonts  of  the  day. 

Sir  Henry  Oswald  lived  long  enough  to  see  Charles  the  Second  reseated  on  his 
father's  throne  ;  but  lived  not  long  enough  to  see  him  sink  that  throne  lower  than  ever 
it  had  ever  sunk  before,  or — so  the  Almighty  still  extend  to  it  his  favor  and  protection — 
shall  sink  again  for  ever !  and  never,  till  he  died  in  the  arms  of  his  dear  children,  did 
he  cease  to  rejoice  at  the  escape  of  Isabella  from  the  wretched  and  guilty  Wyvil,  or  to 
bless  the  day  when  she  made  Henry  Chaloner  his  son. 

Saving  alone  the  kings,  and  cardinals,  and  generals,  who  have  scarce  figured  for  a 
moment  in  our  passing  pageant,  whose  fates  and  follies  may  be  read  in  solid  history — 
one  person  only  now  remains,  of  any  note — the  Sieur  de  Bellechassaigne ;  and  he,  as 
constancy  and  valor  ever  should  find  their  reward  at  last,  overcame  the  opposition  of  hia 
fair  Annette's  kindred,  and  won  a  fair  and  gentle  bride,  to  partake  the  fortunes  of  as 
brilliant  and  as  brave  a  partisan,  as  ever  drew  sword  for  his  lady  or  his  king. 


THE      END 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

LOAN  DEPT. 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below,  or 

on  the  date  to  which  renewed. 
Renewed  books  are  subject  to  immediate  recall. 


=fl*59?V 

REC'D  LD 

DFR  9  "  1959 

&pu^   B^ 

^, 



'SAVESW           u-ssggas-i. 

M269056 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  UBRARY 


